Kids are different, not doomed: A conversation with Janet Schuellein, high school English teacher By Jessica Castagna 1 Sea Lemon’s fresh approach to shoegaze on EP Stop at Nothing By Layne Groom 5
Archiving queer history:
The organizations documenting LGBTQ+ lives from yesterday to today By Jane Montalto 7
AI therapy: Could your next therapist be a robot? By Kaan Ozcan 13
Cancel culture’s shocking roots uncovered By Ali Jacksi 31
Amazon Prime cancels their gays (again) By Esmé Warmuth 15
Al Menne talks memories, vulnerability and freakdom on debut album Freak Accident By Jane Montalto 33
The roundabout world of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure By Marie Lolis 19
Soothing science: Tapping into ASMR with YouTube’s whisper community By Leanne Pastore 37
How to dominate in cardplaying By Johanna Stefanakis 25
Behind the scenes of “Shimon Attie: The View From Below” By Sophia Trifoli 41
The chaos of Brookfest 2023 and what we know about 2024 By Lauren Canavan and Rafael Cruvinel 27
Songs of the Summer 47
Cover photos courtesy of OutCentral Collection, Albert Gore Research Center.
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Letter from the Editor THE STONY BROOK PRESS By Jane Montalto
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o much truth can be found in quiet. I find my quietest moments on the bus. I’ve been going to this school for years now, but suddenly every face is unknown. In these moments, I can’t help but be fascinated by the people in my field of view. What are they studying? What music are they listening to? So much can be told about these commuters without any words. For instance, while some people refuse to pick their bags up for others to sit down, others sit with their bags in their laps to make room. If a phone is in my sights, I discreetly take a peek. Why do they have so many Snapchats to answer? Why did the girl in front of me just text “I hope you are safe” to her mom? I feel invisible on the bus, and I guess that’s why I feel the power to observe so much. Maybe my fascination with the bus is genetic — my dad was a bus driver at Stony Brook while he was a student over 30 years ago. I think that the loneliness of commuting is easier to avoid than people initially think. It is such a cliché, the whole getting involved thing. I hate to say it, but it’s true. My life changed the first day I stepped into the Press office. Of course, its impact wasn’t immediate. I could only attend with a friend from one of my journalism classes, as I was too nervous to attend on my own. I would sit on the chairs at the outskirts of the main group at the GBMs, behind the couch, so my existence was barely noticeable. I was so scared of the editors who ran the magazine back then. As time went on, I grew more confident and began to get more involved with the production of the magazine. The people who once scared me grew to be some of my closest friends. Now, I often forget that I’m actually a commuter, given the amount of time I spend on campus. The office is almost a dorm room to me: I use the microwave to prepare food brought from home and I lay down on the questionable couches when my body has given out from exhaustion. All of a sudden, the quiet of the office is broken by the faint click and beep of the door unlocking, and I am immediately excited to see the face of a friend. I think of the magazine as a baby — one who is slightly vampiric and remains eternally young, needing to be passed down to its next adopted parents every year or two. For just a few months more, it’s still our glossy-papered vampire baby.
DECEMBER 2023 Executive Editor Managing Editor Associate Editor Business Manager News Editors Opinions Editors Features Editors Culture Editor Music Editors Science Editors Satire Editors Lead Copy Editor Copy Editor Multimedia Editors Graphics Editors Graphics Contributors Ombud Team
Jane Montalto Rafael Cruvinel Samantha Aguirre Antonio Mochmann Sydney Corwin Kaitlyn Schwanemann Elene Mokhevishvili Ivan Vuong Elene Mokhevishvili Kaitlyn Schwanemann Ali Jacksi Marie Lolis Esmé Warmuth Jessica Castagna Sydney Corwin Jessica Castagna Ali Jacksi Esmé Warmuth Layne Groom Naomi Idehen Antonio Mochmann Naomi Idehen Ivan Vuong Shelly Gupta Esmé Warmuth Melanie Formosa Komal Grewal Matt Hono Michael Kearney Julio Taku Keating Zelenke
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n antique wooden school desk sits in the sunroom of Janet Schuellein’s new home in Huntington, New York. It has visible wear from children’s use, but the wood finish is still intact — indicating it has been thoroughly loved and cared for. The vintage school desk has been repurposed, with the writing surface end pushed towards the wall, while the outward-facing bench is the perfect spot for Schuellein to gaze upon the plants in her patio enclosure, or look over her kids’ papers. The young adults whom Schuellein, 43, teaches English to at Oceanside High School are not simply her students — she never refers to them as “students.” She only calls them her kids. “It’s a strange form of parenting,” Schuellein says of being a teacher for 22 years. “We’re here to make sure they’re warm, safe, willing to take risks, and then we can teach.” Schuellein, affectionately nicknamed “Schu” by her students, has no children of her own. Schuellein and her husband, Drew MacCallum, were married by an Elvis impersonator on Halloween in 2021 and do not plan to have children — a decision that has given Schuellein the space to indulge in her own joys. She hangs prints of her husband’s photography in their new home and enjoys lavender iced lattes with oat milk and cinnamon at her local coffee spot. She lays out her Halloween ensemble for school, including spooky outfits for the week beforehand. She says that her students have assumed that she has children, and they are shocked when she corrects them. “I want them to think — I’m not, and you’re not, obligated to do anything in this world,” she says. “I say, ‘You’re my babies.’ And they’re like, ‘Well, we know that.’” Schuellein does love kids — she spends time with the dozens of high schoolers who flood her classroom each school year and her nine nieces and nephews from three older sisters. She says that she never felt arm-twisted by her family to have children, especially by her mother, who was pressured to skip college and choose marriage and kids over a career of her own. Schuellein’s mother told her children that as long as they secured health insurance, she would be happy. “That was our only caveat: get a job with health insurance,” Schuellein says. As a teenager, Schuellein was accepted into her local public school’s performing arts program. She joined a gospel choir where she grooved to Janet Jackson. Her fine arts courses lit her passion for art history, as she studied the work of the French post-impressionist artist Paul Gauguin.
Schuellein brings art, culture and religion into her classroom to teach literature more deeply. She arranges her students’ desks into a closed circle to promote engagement. The walls hold students’ artwork, a gigantic depiction of the Bride of Frankenstein, a poster for Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 and a Harry Potter-themed sign that forbids students from being within six feet of each other — a decoration introduced after the onset of COVID-19. “When I teach dystopian lit, I start the beginning of the year with the Sistine Chapel,” Schuellein says. “They don’t know that they’re looking at the Sistine Chapel. It’s the one where God’s creating Adam, and they’re about to touch.” She refers to Michelangelo’s painting on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, “The Creation of Adam,” which depicts a biblical scene in which God gives life to Adam while angels surround him. Schuellein instills the concept of wonder as she prompts her students with a series of questions: “What do you see?” “What does that make you think and wonder?” “That’s what you should do with anything,” Schuellein says. Schuellein, a ‘90s baby, loved to learn as a youngster but was equally fearful of school. Her own schooling experience was not simply sunshine and rainbows, flared jeans and tattoo chokers. She remembers hanging from the pull-up bar during gym class while a group of girls heckled below and threatened to beat her up if she let go. “We were doing slam books when we were in high school, where you put a person’s name on it, and people wrote whatever they wanted and sent it around,” Schuellein says of an experience reminiscent of Mean Girls’ “burn book.” “Then, you could rip it up and burn it,” Schuellein says, whereas today, social media has created a modern environment where childish bullying or antics are scarily permanent. “The things they do, they’re held more dangerously accountable for, or more fairly accountable for, depending on what they do, because of the internet. I feel bad because they’ve lost their privacy and the ability to be free and make mistakes and be kids.” Schuellein is a firsthand witness of how technology has changed young peoples’ schooling. At the front of her classroom, she has a wall of plastic pouches, into which she asks her students to place their phones for the duration of class. Rather than a tactic to force her students to engage with the material, Schuellein uses the phone wall to give her students an opportunity to disengage with their technology. “I tell them that this is 42 minutes when you’re
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students that are redeemable at the book vending machine as part of a movement the school calls “promoting book love.” Schuellein is representative of teachers who simply love working with young adults and want to prepare them for their future lives in the ever-changing world around them. Above all, she promotes universal empathy, even when she has received complaints from parents about their childrens’ assigned reading material. Schuellein says that the vast majority of readings she has assigned, such as Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury or V for Vendetta by graphic novelist Alan Moore, are either banned or restricted somewhere withplan.’” in the U.S. peoyoung that er believ firm a is Schuellein “It is what it is,” she says. “Parents are in a panple today are not better or worse than previous ic. No matter what, I am compassionate. They’re worried about their baby. generations of children. If it’s political or literaThe world that they live rture-based, either way, prima ed, in has morph it’s grounded in fear for ily due to the rapid techtheir child.” nological advancements that society has enA 2022 study conductdured. Children, along ed by the Pew Research with their parents and Center found that U.S. teachers, are trying their parents of K-12 students best to navigate this new are divided on whether world. or not students should be learning about hot-but“People say, ‘They ’ ton topics such as the were better when… legacy of slavery or genThey weren’t,” Schullein identity in schools. as der says. “They were just naughty. I think the presAccording to the study, sures for kids are ampli“31% say they would prefied. And I feel bad for fer that their children them.” learn that whether someone is a boy or a girl is depresthe to She refers sure among students to termined by the sex they were assigned at birth, enroll in college-level courses, such as Advanced and the same share say they’d rather their chilPlacement (AP), while they are still in high dren learn that someone can be a boy or a girl school. She expresses the anxiety she witnesses even if that’s different from their sex at birth. A among her students, many of whom fear that if 37% plurality say their children shouldn’t learn they are not enrolled in enough AP courses, or do about this in school.” not score high enough, they will not receive colIn Schuellein’s case, listening to a parent’s conlege acceptance letters. Schuellein assures her cerns, engaging in open communication and askstudents that they will, and that they should realing them to read the material themselves have ly be saving some college-level work for college. been the best methods for settling nerves. She “It was simpler when I went to school, but the recalls three instances in which a parent has bad stuff was still there,” Schullein says. “The de- apologized to her for misjudging what was being pression was still there.” taught in her classroom. have t distric her in She is thankful that students An assigned reading that Schuellein has rethem e provid can that r cente ss wellne a to access ceived parental complaints about is a legitimatewith mental health resources if they would like ly provocative piece of literature: From Homothem, and wishes these aids were available more geneous to Honey, a comic by Neil Gaiman and widely across the United States. Bryan Talbot. The comic’s title references a skip “homogeneous” to “honey” if the word “hoWhether she is using the game-based learning from ual” were removed from the dictionary. mosex create to platform Kahoot! or challenging them Written in 1988, amidst the AIDS crisis and hoa five-song soundtrack for the portion of a book mophobic legislation in the United Kingdom that stuher they have read so far, Schuellein wants forbid the support of homosexuality, From Homodents to connect with literature in a way that is geneous to Honey outlines the steps an oppressor teach h relevant and interesting to them. Englis takes towards domination. ers at Schuellein’s school hand out book tokens to
free,” she quips. “Some of the kids laugh, like, ‘Oh good, my mom can’t text me right now.’” Schuellein says that the internet has also posed difficult situations for students with regard to their grading. Students’ grades are posted live online for their parents or guardians to access. “I never post a grade unless I show it to the kid first,” she says. “That way, they’re prepared. And if it’s a great grade, wonderful, and if it’s a bad grade, I talk to the kid about it so they’re prepared, you know, to do better, but also to be confident when they talk to their parent, like ‘Look, I’ve spoken with the teacher, and this is the game
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Though the comic does not explicitly state Heinrich Heine’s eerie quote, “those who burn books will in the end, burn people,” the work is overwhelmingly demonstrative of the devastating concept: restricting literature is, historically, a step towards persecution based on race, ethnicity, sexual orientation or any form of otherness. After discussing From Homogeneous to Honey, Schuellein plays a LGBTQ+ short film by Alice Wu in support of Pride Month. “There’s always the beauty and the love, the people that push back against the dangerous thing,” she says, as she underlines that to restrict students’ access to a comprehensive understanding of history is to disservice them. Schuellein’s teaching
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stance takes on even greater importance when examined alongside the wave of book bans crossing the U.S. In a data release of 2023 book challenges, The American Library Association (ALA) and its Office for Intellectual Freedom (OIF) recorded 695 attempts to censor over 1,915 library titles and services between January 1 and August 31, 2023. “The number of unique titles challenged has increased by 20 percent from the same reporting period in 2022, the year in which the highest number of book challenges occurred since ALA began compiling this data more than 20 years ago,” reads ALA’s data re-
students will aulease. “Most of the challenges they think their them authority show ically tomat about or by n writte were to books t. respec and a person of color or a member of the LGBTQIA+ community.” “You go into it because you love children and you Schuellein’s approach to teach- working with feel safe and them g makin love lisexua ing topics surrounding you even teach before first, warm give to is ty identi r gende and ty llein says. students the literary and histor- them a lick,” Schue proto need they ces resour ical The antique school desk that duce a full perspective. She does has found a home within Schuelnot push her students, she pro- lein’s quaint Huntington sunroom vides for them. After all, they are demonstrates the power of care her kids. — a weekly dusting, or an occawood polish main“They need literature to explore sional coat of appearance. For ing stunn its tains the bad, the good, the all the ugly, care is shown kids, llein’s Schue beautiful, everything,” Schuelal love — dition uncon h throug the need just “They lein says. safe space a is oom classr her right book and a good book. And to explore them rages encou that think I which ers, patient teach literature. h throug world the there’s a lot of.” She builds trusting relationships According to Schuellein, her sur- with her students by keeping her name roughly translates to “little promises, even when that means school” or “schoolgirl” in Luxem- she has to pay a 30 push-up tardy bourgish. Aside from Schuellein fee if she is late for class. and two of her three older sisters, Above all, Schuellein hopes her who also teach, the translation is nts reach destinations simstude tree tral suggestive of an ances of her antique that may have contained an even ilar to the fate is well-loved, which desk, l schoo the While longer line of teachers. d in warm sunteaching profession may seem sturdyg and baske genetic in her family, Schuellein light. says that the reason someone becomes a teacher is a much deeper quality. Someone who will make an effective teacher does not enter the teaching world solely because they would love to have a summer vacation, or because
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he 2020s have ushered in a resurgence of shoegaze. The genre, which has close ties to indie rock and dream pop, stands out for its flanged guitars and obscured, reverbed vocals that originated in England in the late ‘80s with bands such as My Bloody Valentine and Slowdive. While the 2010s provided its fair share of dream pop, notable bands — such as Alvvays — are only now embracing traditional shoegaze voicings. And recently, the popularity of those fuzzy, washed-out guitar tones and dreamy, bedroom aesthetics has been on the rise. As demand increases, new talent emerges — namely, Natalie Lew from Seattle, Washington. On Aug. 25, 2023, shortly after signing onto Luminelle Recordings, she released Stop at Nothing — her second
the songs’ characters are vaporized, locked in cellars, torn in half by landslides, stuck underwater or simply falling apart.
EP under the moniker Sea Lemon.
es into musical tracks that are fun and jaunty. These core elements present on this EP help Sea Lemon stand out in an ocean of other artists with similar endeavors.
This five-track project has an exceptionally rich diversity of songs, all while maintaining a cohesive theme. No moment is dragged on, and nothing sounds repetitive. This feels incredibly refreshing for a genre that is currently severely oversaturated. What separates Sea Lemon from other shoegaze musicians is the juxtaposition between her lyrics and the instrumentals that accompany them. Throughout the EP, she leans into lyrics that depict violent imagery in contrast to the light and floaty instrumentation. This motif is especially potent in the first two singles, the catchy “Vaporized” and the densely layered “Cellar.” As the titles suggest,
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Sometimes when I struggle to sleep I Look up the news See someone was caught in a landslide Ripped them in two In “Vaporized,” she sings these lyrics atop a melody that likes to jump around. “In the lyrics, I say, ‘The cellar is where I belong,’ which is me grappling with this idea that sometimes really terrifying imagery interests me the most,” Sea Lemon said in a statement alongside the release of the first single. As promised, she weaves her ghastly lyrical choic-
Distinct, however, does not mean uninspired. For example, Sea Lemon’s song “3A” is reminiscent of Molly Rankin’s early discography, with an echoing riff almost tangled in itself and an extra-punchy drum track that immediately takes you by the hand. The presence of producer-songwriter Jackson Phillips, the engineer behind the EP, can also be heavily felt. Phillips, an indie rock veteran, has worked with artists such as Aviv and Elah Hale. He has received an admirable amount of praise for his self-led
project Day Wave, and has been credited as a producer on over 30 synth-pop and indie releases over the last decade. His work does not mask what makes the music authentically and distinctively Sea Lemon, but the work his experience and structure brought out of her brilliant ideas cannot be understated. He is also a featured performer in the song “Breakdown,” which was the final single before the project’s release. In this slower-paced track, Phillips and Sea Lemon relay back and forth reverbed lines that completely melt into each other during the hooks. The synergy between the two in production and performance is remarkable. Compared to Sea Lemon’s previous work, this EP shows a monumental
amount of growth from her not only as a songwriter, but also as a visionary. Each track in this collection is unique, carefully planned and tastefully inspired. While some songs on her previous EP were great, like the mellow, melancholic “Eraser,” Stop at Nothing distinguishes Sea Lemon in the genre and shows tremendous promise for the Seattle singer’s future in the industry. With the most solidified structure of any of her projects, Stop at Nothing serves as a sturdy stepping stone into even more expansive and ambitious undertakings in the shoegaze genre. g
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ennessee is a dangerous place to be queer. The state Legislature continues to propose and pass bills that take direct aim at queer people and other marginalized groups. This legislation has been dubbed the “Slate of Hate’’ by LBGTQ+ activists. Recently, Tennessee passed a bill that bans public “adult cabaret performance.” It specifically cites “male or female impersonators’’ — drag queens. Many LGBTQ+ Tennesseans are concerned that this jeopardizes their safety. In addition, the legislature passed another bill that prevents transgender youth from receiving gender-affirming healthcare. The Slate of Hate is not new — it is an ongoing threat to queer people in Tennessee. In 2021, the state passed a bill that made it possible for parents to prevent their children from learning about LGBTQ+ issues in school. That particular bill was the tipping
point for Sarah Calise — a Floridian turned Tennessean and full-time librarian at Vanderbilt University. On top of all that, she is queer. She was worried about what this would mean for students. “As a historian and archivist, I knew that queer and trans people have existed forever,” she said. “I just felt really sad and fearful for the K-12 students that were queer or trans. Their own history was going to be banned from school.” At the time, Calise was working as an archivist at Middle Tennessee State University (MTSU), just south of Nashville. She was pleased when she learned the university had received a collection of records from OutCentral — a queer community center in Nashville that closed in 2018. An OutCentral board member who went to MTSU salvaged many documents before the center closed, then
asked the university if it wanted the records. MTSU accepted and assured the board members that the documents would help further the Albert Gore Research Center, which focuses on the state’s political, social and cultural history. But then the COVID-19 pandemic hit, and Calise wasn’t able to do a deep dive into the OutCentral records until 2021 — just when the legislature allowed parents to opt their children out of LGBTQ+ content in public schools. As archivists sifted through the documents, which from the surface weren’t very exciting — mostly business and financial records, meeting minutes and other run-of-the-mill papers — Calise stumbled upon a gold mine of Nashville’s queer history. She said the stash included about 400 photographs from 1990s-era pride parades, picnics and celebrations. The collection of photos is now ac-
Photos courtesy of OutCentral Collection, Albert Gore Research Center. 9
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cessible online through the Al Gore Research Center. One of the photos shows protesters with their fists up or holding signs that read “Act up! Fight for a cure” and “Silence = Death,” as they march forward with a banner that proclaims, “Time’s up! Act up!” Another features people showing off the backs of their shirts emblazoned with the words “love is a basic human right.” It also included about the first twoand-a-half years of Nashville’s gay and lesbian newspaper, Dare — later known as Query. The newspaper started in 1988 and unfortunately ceased publication in 2004. As Calise pored through these records, she couldn’t shake the thought of the Slate of Hate, which was threatening the preservation of queer history in schools. Here she was, working with abundant evidence of Nashville’s vibrant queer past while the State
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wanted to prevent this past from being shared and talked about. The State wanted to lock it away forever. Calise knew what she had to do. She thought to herself, “I can digitize this stuff and make it publicly available.” Calise held quite a bit of power in this moment. “They can’t ban that — they don’t have that kind of authority over us as an archive,” she said. So she started digitizing all the photographs and newspapers. Calise was so inspired that she later earned a master’s degree in information sciences from the University of Tennessee, Knoxville. For her capstone project, she created a website that preserved these previously archived materials. This little website was named Nashville Queer History — a project that Calise hasn’t stopped working on since its launch in September 2021. Nashville Queer History now has more
than 4,000 followers on its ever-active Instagram account. The group — still spearheaded by Calise — hosts many events for the community and continues to educate others on queer history through their work. “I didn’t think it was ever going to blossom into what it is today, but it’s been a wild, fun and rewarding journey thus far,” Calise said. The project is run fully by volunteers and donations, though Calise shoulders the majority of the financial burden of keeping it afloat. Within a year, the numbers of volunteers passionate about helping had increased. The turnout at their very first meeting surprised Calise. “That was really awesome, to have that kind of reaction to what I was doing,” she said. The Nashville Queer History site also
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includes videos from past Pride events and photos of a short-lived Nashville drag bar in addition to the photos from OutCentral and the collection of the Dare newspaper. Calise highlights particular people and events on the archive’s website as well. Although Tennessee politicians want to erase these queer people, here they were, excited to help and, as Calise puts it, to “feel connected to their ancestors.” As the group has grown, Calise started holding monthly meetings last January at public libraries across Nashville. Though supported by an accepting community, Calise still remembers where she lives. It is necessary — for what she calls “safety reasons” — that the locations of these meetings change and remain as private as possible, so members direct message her to learn the addresses. Similar to Nashville Queer History, the Lesbian Herstory Archives in Brooklyn, New York, runs solely on donations and volunteer work. Founded in 1974, the Lesbian Herstory Archives were born in Joan Nestle’s apartment on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. It took almost two decades until Nestle’s apartment became absolutely overtaken by the volume of documents and other memorabilia that are the archives. The need for official space became apparent, and in 1993, the Lesbian Herstory Archives moved to its new home in Park Slope, Brooklyn, where it is located today.
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At the start of the Lesbian Herstory Archives, those in the community surrounding it “were very aware of the fact that what they were doing was historically important,” said volunteer Rachel Corbman, a trained archivist with a doctorate in women’s, gender and sexuality studies from Stony Brook University. The Lesbian Herstory Archives is the largest lesbian-specific collection still in existence. “It’s interested in collecting and preserving all records of lesbian lives and experiences,” Corbman said. As for what exactly the Lesbian Herstory Archives collects, Corbman jokingly describes some contents as “anything touched by a lesbian.” The lesbian feminist movement took root alongside the gay liberation movement, both following the Stonewall Riots in 1969. The Stonewall riots began in late June of that year after police entered the bar and arrested employees and people who weren’t wearing what was deemed as gender-appropriate clothing. This was not the first time that police discriminated against queer people, but it triggered a riot that united LGBTQ+ people of all different identities. These movements continued to snowball, and many more groups of queer people came together to work toward a common goal. Some created what Corbman described as “a consciousness-raising group.” In 1974, one group
in particular got their minds set on the idea of creating an archive that focused on lesbian history. “Everyone realized at the time that traditional libraries were not collecting it,” Corbman explained. “Lesbian Herstory Archives was imagined as a way to kind of fill that gap.” She continued, “The Lesbian Herstory Archives is part of a broader groundswell of other community-based archives that were doing similar work in the 1970s and were in fact in dialogue with each other.” Just a look at the Lesbian Herstory Archives on social media shows the sheer number of usually now-defunct queer groups that have existed in small towns throughout the United States. On Long Island, LHA has showcased a queer history of the region that is unknown to many. A flyer with an illustration of a woman riding a horse with graphic text announcing “Women of Weight Take Space” was published by a lesbian group with that name in Huntington, New York. There are no other records that show the existence of this group, yet the many flyers from the Lesbian Herstory Archives reveal a previously vibrant and passionate organization. Looking at these organizations from the past unveils stories of queer people who have always existed. It is humbling to know that this fight has been one that has seemingly been ongoing forever. It also makes one wonder about what it was like to be a part of these groups at
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the time. “Most grassroots groups are very short-lived,” Corbman said. “It…is just a part of the lifecycle of these kinds of groups.” The archives hold proof of the existence of these groups that otherwise would truly have been forgotten. The Lesbian Herstory Archives has remained a pillar of the community, and they still accept donations of materials to add to their archive. Their digital collection is a scroll that makes your fingers ache trying to look through it all. A colorful collection with shirts like one from Long Island that reads “an army
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of lovers will not fail.” A visitor could get lost perusing the button collection with messages like “Mother Nature is a lesbian,” accompanied by an illustration of a field with trees. One button prominently declares “it’s a bitch being butch!” Other messages echo through the decades: “Lesbian visibility is lesbian survival,” “We Are Everywhere,” “There are more of us than you think!” — these all still ring true today. In November of 2022, the Lesbian Herstory Archives became an official New York City landmark — the first LGBTQ+ landmark in Brooklyn. What is it that drives someone like Nashville Queer History’s Sarah Calise — or like the founders of Lesbian Herstory Archives, Deborah Edel and Joan Nestle — to spend so much time and money on a mission to preserve queer history? “Anger,” Calise said, breaking into a laugh. Then, she quickly added, “Mostly love for my fellow queer people.” The anger is aimed towards “the bigotry and nonstop ignorance that the Republicans-slash-Conservatives have had on the state for quite some time,” Calise said, specifically citing the intense gerrymandering of Tennessee’s voting districts. This anger is the flame that keeps Calise moving forward. Nashville Queer History is creating a safe space for LGBTQ+ Tennesseans who have their rights threatened every day. Calise is also slated to write a book for Vanderbilt University Press on the queer past of Nashville.
Vanderbilt University Press marketing department, became aware of Calise’s research, she was excited to reach out about a book as there wasn’t much published on the topic. Calise explained that the book would be the first to cover Nashville’s queer history, specifically from the 1920s to today — “even though, we know, logically, queer and trans people existed” before then. The first draft is due in November. Calise believes all the work will be worth it. “I didn’t grow up with this history,” she said. Still, she feels uniquely positioned to make an impact within this niche of the queer community. “I have the skills, the perfect combination — I am queer. I am a public historian, archivist-slash-librarian. I know how to do this, I can preserve a history.” So yes, Tennessee is a dangerous place to be queer. Many places are. But projects like these archives underscore the reality that queer people and communities have always existed and always will. And no politician can erase the stories of real, everyday queer people that these archives tell. Calise knew that preserving this history was important, and that she had to use her specific skills and assets to do it. “I don’t see anyone else doing it, so it’s gotta be me,” she said. “And hopefully people join me along the way, which has happened.” g
After Betsy Phillips, who works in the FEATURES
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eet Tess, a mental health chatbot. Feeling down? Tess can cheer you up. Feeling anxious? Tess can ease some of your worries. As a psychological chatbot, Tess utilizes a combination of technologies, emotional algorithms and machine learning techniques to help support a variety of tools. Think of Tess like ChatGPT, but, instead of curing your boredom, Tess is intended to support your mental health like a therapist would. With some studies showing a reduction in symptoms of depression and anxiety in its users, Tess is one of the many “robot therapists” being proposed as an adjunct to traditional therapy. While Tess may come across as somewhat dystopian, proponents of this technology have argued that digital mental health conversational agents break down barriers in treatment. In the case of Tess, and its contemporary, Woebot, cost is not an issue for users as both softwares are free.
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Still, some may be creeped out by the idea and believe artificial intelligence (AI) therapy softwares simply do not
provide the proper emotional bandwidth of a human therapist. Detractors argue that the therapies lack the proper research to be proven as effective. Despite how people feel about the technology, the mechanics behind it are simple to understand. AI therapy devices all operate through a similar method: delivering traditional cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) for the treatment of depression and anxiety through text messaging services. As the most popular form of therapy, CBT is the most widely studied approach, and has been proven most effective
for issues like anxiety disorders, general stress, anger control problems and more. CBT delivered digitally, however, has not been properly reviewed for its efficacy. Much like a real therapist, Tess takes time to get to know and understand its users. By receiving personal health information from a patient, the bot will adapt to that information to recommend diagnoses and treatments. Utilizing “adaptive machine learning technology,” Tess slowly tailors its treatment for each user while interacting with the patient. According to Steven Skiena, director of the Institute for AI-Driven Discovery and Innovation at Stony Brook University, AI systems “learn from data to respond appropriately to different individuals.” Skiena explained that AI itself is just “systems built using machine learning, which builds predictive models from large amounts of training data.” A 2021 national survey commissioned
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by Woebot Health, the company that owns Woebot, found that 22% of adults had used a mental health chatbot. And the company only expects this number to grow as the technology improves and adapts. A huge customer base seems to be ready to take advantage of these chatbots. But what are the dangers of using such a technology? While some hope AI therapy can lessen the obstacles to accessing mental health resources, Şerife Tekin, an associate professor of philosophy at the Center for Bioethics and Humanities at SUNY Upstate Medical University, worries that AI therapy bots might actually worsen the barriers to care. Tekin’s concern is that “in-person and higher quality interventions” will only be accessible by the wealthy, while AI therapy will be used by poor and unprivileged populations. “Already some school districts who serve students from underserved backgrounds are recommending the use of these apps,” Tekin said. The Guardian also reported that school districts across the country have recommended Woebot. Tekin has many additional fears about the emerging technology. She emphasized that the “unknowns are higher than the knowns” and views the little research in this area as a sign not to buy into the idea yet. Tekin noted how the studies conducted thus far have been small in sample size and are often non-controlled and non-randomized. “The technology is advancing so fast that research seems unable to keep up,” she said. Further fears arise when algorithms are shown to reinforce inequalities, making AI therapy a potentially poor choice for historically marginalized groups. “There are patterns machine learning systems can pick up from data that reflect biases in how it was collected,” Skiena said. Because people have inherent biases,
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Skiena said, “careful training and evaluation can be used to mitigate the potential bias of AI systems.” Unfortunately, these protocols take time and effort to be put into place. AI researchers are working hard to determine what methods and solutions will address the bias problem. However, it is unknown exactly if and when AI will be truly unbiased. Mistrust in AI therapy devices has grown after the National Eating Disorder Association (NEDA) took down their Tessa chatbot — not to be confused with Tess. Tessa was in charge of running the association’s Body Positive Program and was responsible for providing comfort and help to those with eating disorders. Mere days after being put into use, Tessa recommended its users to count calories, do weigh-ins and measure body fat with calipers. Alexis Conason, a psychologist and eating disorder specialist, explained to The New York Times that these messages could have been potentially harmful to Tessa users. “Any focus on intentional weight loss is going to be exacerbating and encouraging the eating disorder,” Conason told the Times. In a statement made on May 30, NEDA said Tessa “may have given information that was harmful and unrelated,” and the program was taken down “until further notice for a complete investigation.” Tekin fears that personal health information, like the information provided to Tessa, could be in danger if breached by cybercriminals due to a lack of reliable security. “They might transmit unencrypted personal data over insecure network connections or allow ad networks to track users, raising serious concerns about their ability to protect the confidentiality of user information,” Tekin said.
formation revealed in chatbot logs, cybercriminals could potentially obtain medical services and devices, forcing victims to either pay for a service they did not receive or risk losing their insurance. “Fraudulent healthcare events can leave inaccurate data in medical records about tests, diagnoses and procedures that could greatly affect future healthcare and insurance coverage,” Tekin said. Tekin’s claims are grounded in fact. Senate Intelligence Committee Chairman Mark R. Warner published a policy options paper highlighting the uptick in cybersecurity attacks on health care providers. In 2021, over 45 million people were affected by these attacks, an all-time high and a 32% increase compared to 2020. While still a very novel technology —
and a highly contested one at that — AI therapy may be worth investigating for those who are unable to access traditional mental health treatment. It has the potential to prove useful when used in conjunction with other therapy methods. “There has been very rapid progress in AI systems like the large language models that power ChatGPT,” Skiena said. “I expect that such progress will continue. AI is changing much about how the world works and people work.” Tekin, on the other hand, believes that proper research and ethical considerations should be conducted prior to any big steps. “We just need to slow down and think about the possible risks before racing up to the next shiny-looking intervention.” As more apps flood the market and the technologies advance, the future remains uncertain. g
By using sensitive personal health in-
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I
n August of 2022, Amazon Prime Video unceremoniously released their remake of Penny Marshall’s classic film, A League of Their Own. When the original film premiered in 1992, it was considered revolutionary in its portrayal of strong female characters at the center of its narrative. Set in 1943, A League of Their Own told the unique story of the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League (AAGPBL). While many male baseball players fought overseas in World War II, women stepped up to the plate at the invitation of Major League Baseball Executive Philip K. Wrigley. The film focused on the fictional AAGPBL players’ strength and the endurance of the human spirit during wartime. The 2022 adaptation is an eight-episode miniseries with a mostly original plot and characters, boasting an impressive cast and creative team that prioritized representation both in casting and crafting of the story. The miniseries is unapologetic in its realistic representation of the discrimination faced by
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queer women and people of color in the 1940s. Despite initial backlash from viewers who expected a more traditional adaptation of the original film, the show received excellent reviews. It holds a 95% score on Rotten Tomatoes, a 7.6/10 on IMDB and an 88% on Google. The show also received widespread critical acclaim winning both Outstanding New TV Series at the 2023 GLAAD Media Awards and The National Visibility Award at the 2022 Human Rights Campaign National Dinner. In addition, Gbemisola Ikumelo, who plays Clance in the show, was nominated for Best Supporting Performance in a New Scripted Series at the 2023 Independent Spirit
Awards. Even with boundless praise and an exhaustive six-month-long fan campaign to get the show renewed, in March of 2023, it was reported that Amazon intended to cancel the show, and that it would release an abbreviated four-episode final season before putting it to rest for good. This final season was subsequently scrapped on Aug. 18, 2023, when Amazon quietly announced that the show would be formally canceled without the promised episodes. While the company initially blamed this cancellation on the writers’ and actors’ strikes in Hollywood, creator Abbi Ja18
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cobson called this excuse “bullshit and cowardly” in a post on Instagram. Notably, production on the show began in March 2018, giving Amazon — which has a history of renewing shows before they even begin to air — four years to consider greenlighting a second season of the show before the strike began in May of 2023.
lion hours viewed in total while in this top ten spot. First Kill aired on Netflix
A League of Their Own is just the latest victim in a string of lesbian-centric shows that faced cancellation recently. Queer shows have struggled to survive on television this year, but shows with lesbian or sapphic main characters are canceled at a disproportionate rate compared to shows that feature gay male protagonists. Of 30 queer-centric shows canceled in 2022, 22 featured lesbian relationships or characters. Netflix is perhaps the most notorious culprit behind canceling lesbian shows. Teen drama I Am Not Okay With This — which featured a lesbian main character and ended on a brutal cliffhanger — had a similar fate to A League of Their Own after Netflix canceled it in 2020 despite having initially promised to renew it. Co-creator Jonathan Entwistle told Business Insider that Netflix said it ultimately canceled the show due to its cost outweighing its use to the platform. In August 2022, Netflix also canceled its original series First Kill, a decision that was subsequently met with huge backlash. The show was massively successful on the streaming service — shooting into the top ten list during its release week and amassing over 97 mil-
at around the same time as Heartstopper, which features a high-school-romance storyline comparable to First Kill’s, though with the notable difference of portraying two queer men rather than women as its central couple. Although the show reached 53.4 million hours viewed while in Netflix’s top ten, considerably fewer than First Kill, Heartstopper was renewed for two more seasons within a month of airing. First Kill fans did not go quietly. A visit to savefirstkill.com yields a plethora of fan attempts to get the show either renewed by Netflix or picked up by another streaming service. Fans paid out of their own pockets to rent a Times Square billboard in August of 2022, displaying various messages with the same meaning: save First Kill. Much to the disappointment of the fans, their ef-
forts fell on deaf ears, and First Kill unfortunately remains canceled with no prospects for a new season. Other lesbian-centric shows canceled in 2022 include HBO’s Gentleman Jack, Netflix’s Warrior Nun, Amazon Prime Video’s The Wilds, Disney+’s Willow, Showtime’s The L Word: Generation Q and The CW’s Batwoman. These cancellations may seem inconsequential — however, the distaste of the LGBTQ+ community should not be discounted as a profit-loss issue for companies. In April 2022, The New York Times reported that Netflix had lost subscribers for the first time in a decade, losing 200,000 in the first quarter of the year. Notably, this report came after the
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Human Rights Campaign declined to give Netflix a Corporate Equality Index — the organization said that following Netflix’s support of Dave Chappelle’s ongoing anti-trans rhetoric, the streaming service did not merit a score. “So many of us already said they are not starting [to watch] any new Netflix shows unless they have two seasons AT LEAST because of their reputation of canceling everything,” a queer user said on X, formerly known as Twitter. “They should start actually thinking about how much that affects their shows.” Despite these statistics, there’s still hope. HBO has been a champion of queer characters, featuring sapphic main characters in some of their most popular shows including Euphoria, The Last of Us and The White Lotus. Additionally, there is precedent for shows being canceled and then picked CULTURE
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back up because of fan campaigns. Fans of the lesbian-centric show Wyonna Earp were able to get it back on the air for a final season after its cancellation by campaigning in a way similar to what A League of Their Own fans are doing now. Netflix’s Warrior Nun was also renewed after being canceled, thanks to the tireless efforts of fans. Regardless of Amazon’s harsh cancellations, A League of Their Own fans remain optimistic. Creator Will Graham took to X to discuss the show’s cancellation and told fans that they were “still fighting” for a second season. “It’s hard for me to imagine that there wouldn’t be a home for a show that thanks to you was in the Nielsen Top 10 for three weeks, was the top show on Amazon for a month and in the top five for six, that was recognized by critics
as something special, that’s been recognized with awards from GLAAD, HR and a million other organizations, that was on a million year-end top ten lists, and that has a built-in and deeply passionate audience,” Graham wrote. With the hard work of fans, who will not stop advocating for queer creators’ rights to tell their own stories, A League of Their Own may find a new network for their second season. A renewal will defiantly buck the current trend — the cancellation of queer shows will no longer be met with silent grief, but rather with loud opposition. g
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J
onathan Joestar is not going to win. Flames bellow around the muscular man in the boat’s engine room. In his arms, he holds the vampiric head of his adopted brother, Dio Brando, who mortally wounded Jonathan on his honeymoon. Dio has taken everything away from Jonathan — his father, his home and the friends made along his journey to defeat the vampire — and now, a future with his new wife, Erina Pendelton. Nevertheless, Jonathan embraces him. In his final moments, Jonathan accepts his inevitable death and whispers
to Erina to escape. Dio frantically begs Jonathan to reconsider, promising him immortality and to heal him. But it’s too late. Jonathan Joestar is dead. The ship explodes. The adventure has ended. My eyes stung. It was 4 o’clock in the morning, and I was stunned. How could JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure continue if JoJo was dead? As I scrambled through my brain wondering how the story could continue, a familiar tune played. When the episode ended, “Roundabout” by Yes introduced Joseph Joestar — the next hero — as a “to be continued” arrow dashed across the screen.
JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure began in 1987 with its first part, “Phantom Blood,” released in Shonen Jump Magazine, a popular manga anthology. Author Hirohiko Araki tested the bounds of his saga in both style and story. To kill the main protagonist of a manga series was unheard of, yet for Araki, the risk made sense. Taking inspiration from John Steinbeck’s multigenerational tale East of Eden, Jonathan’s death as a hero meant that not only would he be immortalized, but he would open the door for the story to continue with a new plot and a new protagonist, Joseph Joestar.
Top photo from “MAKING of JOJO.” 21
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JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure is a saga of family and destiny. It tells the story — through both a manga and television series — of the Joestar family, a long-running line of strongwilled individuals who fight whatever fate throws at them. They face vampires, a species of rock humanoids, a hand-loving serial killer who just wants a quiet life and even the 23rd president of the United States. There’s no question that the Joestar family has had some pretty bizarre adventures. Araki relishes in the bizarreness — suspending
the reader’s disbelief to the point where it becomes completely acceptable to find ghostly manifestations of a character’s soul named after Western rock music or fight Disney characters on the way to Orlando. Throughout the story, Araki riffs on the names of Western figures: Jonathan teams up with Robert E. O. Speedwagon (REO Speedwagon) and William Zeppeli (Led Zeppelin) to defeat vampire Dio Brando (Ronnie James Dio). Araki also alludes to numerous fashion illustrators such as Tony Viramontes, Antonio Lopez and Tetsuo Hara’s manga Fist of the North Star. The metamorphosis of Araki’s art style and the frequency of his music and art references grow alongside the manga. This process has been repeated throughout the series’ 35-year run, with a new member of the Joestar family traversing genres, the world, time and the universe itself in each new iteration. The story has nine parts, with the newest part, “The JoJolands,” released in February 2023. It is no wonder that, over time, this manga has become a beloved work, with many fans praising Araki’s skill at building worlds and his meticulous attention to detail when weaving Western music and fashion elements
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Top left photo from “MAKING of JOJO.” Illustrations by Shelly Gupta. 22
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into the story. On the flipside, JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure’s sheer bizarreness has allowed it to transcend internet spaces through references and meme culture. Before he began writing the series, Araki took a trip to Italy. It was there that he saw the lifesize marble statue of “Apollo and Daphne” sculpted by Gian Lorenzo Bernini in the 1620s. He was enamored by the twisting poses, which inspired him to focus more deeply on realistic shapes. As he drew, opened beside him were fashion magazines and sculpture books. The result was his own unique art style that was distinct from what was being published at
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the time. “Because characters’ poses can reveal much about them, down to what emotions they are feeling, poses are an incredibly important element of drawing,” Araki explained in his 2017 book Manga in Theory and Practice: The Craft of Creating Manga. In an interview with Viz Media, Araki recognized the influence of what’s
known as the “JoJo pose” — the exaggerated poses and stylized stances of the characters. “It’s heavily influenced by Rome, Roman sculptures and their poses,” he explained. “The modern-day fashion industry can also trace its roots back to the Romans. It’s really a universal thing.” Across the world, JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure has been honored for its innovation in art and culture. In 2009, Hirohiko Araki became the first Japanese manga artist to be featured in the Louvre Museum in Paris. His original artwork, “Rohan at the Louvre,” was displayed among some of the greatest pieces of art in the world. The museums and masterpieces he once referenced in his work now
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honored him. In addition to the intricate and unique poses his characters strike, what they wear is inspired heavily by luxury fashion brands such as Gucci and Versace. As Araki uses fashion magazines to guide his illustrations, he draws inspiration from what each model wears and creates eccentric outfits for the cast in the already bizarre story. JoJo references fashion magazines and couture shows, but now Gucci and Balenciaga are featuring Araki and his work in collaborations with his characters wearing runway looks. Some of his characters’ namesakes come from fashion brands such as Narciso Anasui, Enrico Pucci, Hermés and Emporio. For the cosplay community, JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure presents a unique challenge: how to create and wear the unconventional costumes of the characters. Ky, also known as @apollo11_cos, is a cosplayer with more than 58,000 followers on TikTok. They have cosplayed more than 80 JoJo characters, including every character in “JoJolion,” the 8th part of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure — and Ky’s favorite. “I just do it because of my love of the series,” Ky explained. “And doing the makeup is just so fun because like, no other manga series has that unique style — just trying to figure out how to make myself look like I just walked out of the manga.” Ky has thrifted and hand-sewn many of their cosplays, crafting some in just a few days. The Berklee music major began cosplaying during the COVID-19 pandemic and was introduced to JoJo through an insistent friend. Ky found the characters’ relatability and diversity in gender expression appealing and enjoyed the series’ connection to music. “The main thing for me is the music references because I’ve been a musician, and now I’m going to college for music. So just being like, ‘Hey, wait. Esidisi is named after the band [ACDC].’ In ‘JoJolion,’ a lot of the references are jazz standards, like ‘Autumn Leaves,’ and last semester, I played that in my ensemble, and I already knew it from ‘JoJolion.’” As the story progresses, these musical motifs become more and more
glaring with the introduction of ghostly manifestations of the characters’ fighting spirits, known as Stands. In JoJo’s universe, they usually fight along with the cast while shouting song titles, artists or albums as they attack. “Sticky Fingers,” “Soft and Wet” and “White Album” are just a few of the many names of Stands that play major roles in the story. Sometimes the characters are even named for musical artists and songs: Foo Fighters, Kars, Weather Report and Jolyne — for Dolly Parton’s “Jolene.” It may seem, well, bizarre, but for JoJo fans, this homage is a welcome part of the deep lore of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure. With nods to Queen, ACDC, Wham!, Oingo Boingo, Prince, Pink Floyd, King Crimson, The Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Sade, Lady Gaga and others,
Araki dominates the art of referencing iconic musicians. Japanese audiences relished the story for 25 years for its melodrama and craziness, but Western audiences weren’t truly exposed to the series until the animated version aired in 2012. It took the internet by storm for its absurdity and meme-ability. What JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure did to the internet was create an inside joke — where every single thing in the universe can be drawn back to the story in the form of JoJo references. While Araki took inspiration from art, music and fashion, fans in turn have sought references in the most esoteric ways. A steamroller? JoJo reference. The country of Italy? JoJo
Left photos from JoJo’s Bizarre Encyclopedia’s Reference Gallery. Top photo from Ky (@imapollo11) on Instagram. NEWS FEATURES
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reference. DiGiorno Pizza? JoJo Reference. Jesus Christ? JoJo reference! All of these unsuspecting things are tied to JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, and fans will let you know. It becomes a scavenger hunt to find connections to the anime and manga out of anything and everything. In Paw Patrol, a children’s cartoon, fans noticed JoJo posing in the background. The TV show Family Guy referenced the “to be continued” meme, which stemmed from how each episode of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure ends. Songs such as “JoJo Pose” by Apollo Fresh and “RN” by Joey Valence and Brae reference JoJo, with the former sparking a TikTok trend with thousands of videos replicating the iconic poses from the anime and the manga. I used to make fun of JoJo fans in the library after school. They were street preachers, trying to convert those willing to listen to a bizarre faith. They showed me meme compilation videos, explained plot snippets without any context and even forced me to watch an episode. It was unrelenting, but the passion of the fans is something straight out of a cult — and I wanted to understand why. After watching the first 60 episodes over a two-week school break, my brain was wired differently. I mumbled quotes and catchphrases under my breath. I began to pose in my room emulating the characters. My once normal life became filled with JoJo no matter where I went. I returned to school a different person — I was now a JoJo fan. The fandom is an exclusive club — members unite in long, convoluted discussions about anything from the long, convoluted story. With so much to talk about, everyone’s answers are different and unique. Jeff Purirojejananon, a recent graduate of Stony Brook University, was once a stranger to me. We had mutual friends, so we sat eating lunch together on a club trip to New Orleans. When the topic of anime came up, I said my favorite was JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure. Jeff’s head snapped, turning to look at me. He whipped out his phone to reveal his Johnny Joestar lock screen, and we began blabbering about our favorite characters and parts of the story and our excitement about JoJo’s future. Like me, he once thought JoJo
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that took place there in 2001 during the fifth part, “Golden Wind.” I could be eating a gyro when I remember Gyro Zeppeli, a character from Araki’s seventh JoJo part called “Steel Ball Run.”
watching them.”
all
of
No matter how bizarre JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure gets, it deserves the love and attention it receives. Araki’s one-of-a-kind magnum opus is a testament to his love of art and culture. The infatuation of fans is warranted because in the same way that JoJo is a story of legacy, it is up to the fans to continue the legacy. Araki is currently writing the ninth part, “The JOJOLands,” and the anime still has two other parts to adapt for fans to enjoy. But even when JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure “ends,” the story won’t ever really be over — because if its fans know anything, it is this: Hirohiko Araki’s last words at the end of every episode are always “to be continued.” The continuing love and passion fans have for this work can take them on adventures for life. g
JoJo fans want to be seen. They want others to get a glimpse of the glory and insanity that is JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure. YouTube comments sections for music and bands referenced by JoJo are flooded with observations and jokes about the characters and storyline. With such a dedicated fan base, it did not take long for some artists to notice. English prog-rock band King Crimson posted about JoJo on their Facebook page. Michael Polnareff, a French musician and the namesake of the character Jean Pierre Polnareff, posted the character on Twitter to the elation of JoJo fans. was cringeworthy. “My first exposure to JoJo was a couple of years ago, [when] my friend showed me the Dio vs. Jotaro fight, and I honestly thought it was cringe as hell,” he said, referring to the time when the cunning Jotaro Kujo stopped his heart mid-fight to convince Dio that he’d died. “Some years later, my friends were talking about JoJo parts and which one was their favorite, which got me into actually
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There is a method to this madness. Because JoJo references everything, everything becomes a JoJo reference within its fandom. It’s a never-ending cycle of discovering a reference and seeing it in real life. I could be walking in the supermarket and stop in my tracks as “Walk Like an Egyptian” by the Bangles, the credit song for the third part “Stardust Crusaders,” plays over the loudspeaker. Someone could mention the Roman Colosseum and my brain will replay the mafia battle
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T
he card game BS is known for its notoriously risky decisions and rage-inducing gameplay. The objective is to get rid of all of your cards through deceptive means — the person who does this first is the winner. The deck is first divided equally between a group of players, and the person who is dealt the ace of spades begins the game by placing the ace in the center. Gameplay proceeds with the cards being placed face down in sequential order — the next player places a two card face down on the pile, the next puts down a three and so on. Players must announce the value of the card that they are placing down, as well as how many of that card they are playing.
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The game continues to cycle through the cards sequentially, restarting the sequence if necessary, but there is a catch — the players can lie about the card they have placed onto the pile, despite whether or not it’s in their hand, and they can be called out for it. If another person suspects that the card a player put down is not what they have stated it to be, they can call their bluff by saying “BS” during that round. If the caller is correct, the player who lied must pick up all of the cards that have been placed in the pile so far and add them to their hand. If the caller is incorrect, they must pick up the entire pile instead. For a player with their mind set on winning, a well-known game theory concept can assist in helping them se-
cure a victory: the prisoner’s dilemma. The prisoner’s dilemma originates from a thought experiment developed in 1950 by mathematicians Merrill Flood and Melvin Dresher at RAND Corporation, a United States think tank. The prisoner’s dilemma represents a scenario in which two convicts have a choice to either “confess” or “deny.” If both prisoners were to confess to their crimes, they would both serve five years. However, if one confessed and one denied, the latter would have to serve 20 years, and the former would serve zero. If both prisoners were to deny, they would both serve one year. In the case of the prisoner’s dilemma, where the prisoners are in an iso-
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lated situation and are not aware of the other’s choice, the optimal decision is to confess. This is an example of Nash equilibrium: a solution to a game in which neither player can benefit from changing their strategy, assuming the other player’s strategy is fixed. If one prisoner were to confess, the other prisoner’s best choice is to also confess. Both serve five years, instead of one serving zero and the other serving 20. Therefore, when one is unaware of their fellow prisoner’s choice, the optimal choice is to confess. On the other hand, if the conspirators had had time to discuss what their decision would be, and were aware of the sentences tied to their choices, their best decision as a pair would be to both deny and serve one year each. This, however, would not be an example of Nash equilibrium, as one prisoner could benefit from changing their strategy, assuming that the other prisoner’s strategy remains fixed. Something interesting to note about the Nash equilibrium in the prisoner’s dilemma is that it is not Pareto-efficient. For a given set of choices to be considered Pareto-efficient, all the alternatives in which one player benefits must make the other player worse off. In the case of the prisoner’s dilemma, the Nash equilibrium does not constitute a state of Pareto efficiency, as there exists a strategy in which both prisoners are strictly better off — namely when both deny. Much like the prisoner’s dilemma, the game of BS is based on lies and truths, and what incentives lead the player to
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choose one or the other. To demonstrate this scenario, a payoff matrix — a diagram that describes a player’s possible choices in a game —
representing a round of BS can be created. Let D be the number of cards in the pile at the time, and N be the number of cards put down by the player. “Points” in the payoff matrix correspond to the change in the number of cards in the respective players’ hands through the turn based on the choices they make. For example, in the first Lie/Call BS quadrant, one can see that, if the player chooses to lie and is caught by their opponent who calls BS on the play, they must pick up +D cards while their opponent picks up no cards. -N + N signifies their initial action of putting down N cards, but then having to pick that same number of cards, N, up again after being caught lying, as well as the rest of the pile, +D.
a lie, they are guaranteed to get rid of the cards they placed down, in addition to forcing the other player to pick up D + N cards if they incorrectly call “BS.” If the player were to lie, and if another player were to correctly call “BS,” the initial player would have to pick up the D + N cards, which would bring them further away from the goal of getting rid of all their cards. In the larger context of the entire game, the best strategy that a player can implement is to tell the truth unless they are absolutely forced to do otherwise. According to a computer simulation of the game with over 120,000 runs, this particular method of play has a 51% win rate — the greatest out of any of the other strategies one may employ. Furthermore, calling “BS” is a rather risky play, therefore, players who refrained from doing so had a similarly high win rate. Naturally, this is due to the fact that calling “BS” incorrectly results in the significant penalty of picking up the entire pile of cards that have been played. This highlights a great similarity between the prisoner’s dilemma and BS: the player’s optimal strategy, when unaware of the strategy of their opponent, is to tell the truth. There are many principles of the prisoner’s dilemma that can be applied to BS, and learning how to play card games through the lens of game theory can be instrumental in helping players achieve the success they desire. g
If the player tells the truth rather than
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O
n Nov. 15, 2023, USG announced the results of its poll revealing the top artists to headline the 2024 Brookfest this upcoming spring. As students’ attention turns to next year’s event, it’s fair to say that an unforgettable memory of the 2023 Brookfest was the disaster that unraveled leading up to it. Funded by Stony Brook University’s Undergraduate Student Government (USG), the annual concert still requires students to pay $20 for seats in the stands and $35 for floor tickets. This year’s show was originally supposed to be headlined by rapper Bryson Tiller, with opening performances from rapper Fivio Foreign and R&B artist Sevyn Streeter. The artist announce-
ments drew a common split of opinions among the student body. While USG does provide a poll for students ahead of choosing the lineup, it seems that lately, the only genres represented at Brookfest are rap, and sometimes R&B. For example, in the last few years, Stony Brook has hosted artists including Gunna, ASAP Ferg and 21 Savage. Just under a week before the highly anticipated event, ticket holders were devastated to hear that Bryson Tiller had been removed as a headliner. Since there was no immediate explanation given, students began criticizing USG in the comments section of their Instagram announcement, expressing their
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disappointment and demanding refunds. “Pls tell me this is a super super late prank for April Fools,” one user commented. “EXTREMELY COMMON STONY BROOK L,” another wrote. One day after USG’s announcement, Tiller canceled a concert in Toronto. He posted an Instagram story apologizing to fans and explained that his doctor advised him not to fly due to an ear injury. While it isn’t confirmed that the two cancellations are related, Tiller’s post seemed to provide some answers. Brookfest tickets have always been nonrefundable, but USG provided a
short period in which students could get their money back. Many students didn’t see the lineup change and were not available to request their refunds during the short time frame, which left them outraged. Three days before Brookfest, USG took to Instagram with an update: Rapper Lil Tecca was the new headliner. Best known for his 2019 hit “Ransom,” the 21-year-old attended Lawrence High School. Tecca’s time as headliner didn’t last long. On April 13 at 11 p.m. — less than 24 hours before the concert — USG announced that Yung Gravy would be the
new Brookfest headliner, as Lil Tecca was unable to perform due to “circumstances beyond our control.” The 27-year-old rapper from Rochester, Minnesota, is known for songs such as “Gravy Train” and “Mr. Clean.” These hits respectively sample the older tunes “Right Back Where We Started From” by Maxine Nightingale and “Mr. Sandman” by the Chordettes. This fusion of older, familiar music mixed with Gravy’s newer, often comically explicit lyrics have resulted in great success on the charts and on TikTok. Stony Brook sophomore Alexander Vangeuns said that he only purchased tickets after Gravy was announced as the headliner.
“Honestly, I wasn’t gonna see the other two — I’m here for Yung Gravy,” he said. Vangeuns and his friend Skyler Gibson were among the few students who formed a line in front of the arena ahead of the show. Gibson explained that she bought the ticket for Bryson Tiller and then Lil Tecca, but mainly because she considered it cheap. She emphasized that she was going because she wanted to. “Why not?” she said. “It’s an experience.” Between floor space and seating, Island Federal Arena has a capacity of Photos by Lauren Canavan and Rafael Cruvinel
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over 4,000 people. After entering and seeing the half-empty arena, it was hard to consider this year’s Brookfest a success. As compared to last year’s sold out show, only about one-third of the floor was filled, which left artists looking out to see a large empty space as they performed. Florida native Sevyn Streeter put on an engaging opening set, complete with two backup dancers. It was clear that despite whether or not people knew her prior, they were able to enjoy her lyrics and dancing in what was perhaps the most energetic act of the night. Sevyn Streeter was quick to note that she often gets “lonely” on stage, selecting a student from the crowd to join her under the violet-colored lights. The student was directed to sit in a chair and was given a lap dance during her following song. The crowd responded with excited screams, marking the moment as one of the highlights of her performance. Fivio Foreign, who consistently referred to himself as “The King of New York,” hails from Brooklyn. When he emerged on stage, he was accompanied by another man with a mic. For people unfamiliar with his material, at first it was unclear which person was actually Fivio Foreign. While there were some apparent fans in the crowd, Foreign’s performance continued to confuse the rest. For nearly half of it, he gripped a plastic Taco Bell cup of MUSIC
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water in one hand and his mic in another, as his DJ’s sound effects often drowned out his voice. Just before the headliner went on, Yung Gravy’s DJ Tiiiiiiiiiip came out to ramp up the energy in the echoey arena. Dressed in a red cowboy outfit, he threw Lunchables and other treats into the screaming crowd to fuel them for Gravy’s performance. Soon, Yung Gravy swiftly emerged through a tunnel into the arena, accepting some high fives from fans before running on stage. He jumped into his set, consisting of over a dozen songs including “Betty” and “Good Gracious.” Much of Gravy’s performance consisted of call and response as he hopped around balancing on one foot to the driving beats of his backing tracks. At one point, unannounced, Gravy threw more Lunchables into the audience. During his live rendition of his song “Magic,” Yung Gravy brought SBU mascot Wolfie Seawolf on stage to dance. Students in the audience cheered for the pair, and they were excited to see Wolfie gift Gravy a school jersey, which he later signed. Before exiting, the artist launched Froot Loops into the crowd, creating a rainbow effect for the final moments of his performance. Although it wasn’t the performance of a lifetime, Gravy has to be given credit for saving the show.
Now, all eyes are on next spring. On the artist poll for Brookfest 2024, students were sure to make their voices heard. According to USG’s announcement, they received a record number of submissions. The top three most voted artists are A Boogie Wit da Hoodie, Kali Uchis and Steve Lacy. However, USG was quick to note that these artists are considered to be a stretch for their current budget, and securing them would only be possible with an increase in the student activity fee. On Dec. 2, 2023, USG passed a $7 increase in the fee of all students at the university, explaining that it could enable them to widen their budget for future Brookfest performances. Before the increase, Swae Lee, Troye Sivan, Flo Milli, Chase Atlantic and Wallows are the only artists considered affordable out of the 15 highest voted. The additional $7 will help secure more expensive artists, which could lessen the chance of short-notice cancellations from happening again, but there will always be factors out of USG’s control. Regardless of what happens, the pressure is on for Brookfest 2024 to reinstill the student body’s faith in this decades-long tradition. g
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ancel culture creates an environment that seeks to take fame away from celebrities and influencers who commit “bad” actions by boycotting their products en masse and creating a wide movement to tell others to do so. Many celebrities have been canceled for their harmful political rhetoric, racism and harass-
most recent cancellation — his third this year. “I was running out of ideas and getting burned out, so I told my buddy to leak some of our old DMs so we could take a vacation with the boys.”
ment of others.
ered his opinions on white supremacy, they came together as a community to boycott his work. He has since apologized and cited “doing it as a bit” as his justification.
Recently, the great minds at WatchMojo.com uncovered that celebrities will often come back from being canceled, and they collected these moments in a top 10 video. The metrics used to rank these canceled celebrities have yet to be revealed. This reporting
has led many to ask the question: is cancel culture real? “Canceled” influencers have attempted to return to their platforms by apologizing to their followers and the communities they are accused of hurting, taking time to reflect on their actions and donating to causes that they
believe are relevant. They leave the rest to the court of public opinion as they continue to make content.
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Allen found out about this technique by accident. After old tweets surfaced and fans discov-
“The best part is, when I came back, the views just went way up,” Allen continued. He was initially surprised to get so much at-
tention, and told his manager that they should get canceled more often. “Since then, my manager’s given me a cancellation quota.” Allen’s manager, Patrick Doogon, has since shared the technique with his other influencer clients. He told them that getting canceled is essentially a “paid
leave,” as the attention and views that come afterwards pay for the time taken to “reflect.”
While researching the effects of cancel culture and what steps people take to seek redemption, The Press came across a shocking revelation: some influencers will
With the “court of public opinion” having no way to give influencers a “sentence,” and the “court records” taking the form of Twitter threads made by 15-yearolds, many influencers simply ex-
intentionally manufacture cancellation to take breaks from their social media jobs.
ploit this lack of accountability and resume their content as normal.
“I kinda just got tired, y’know?” said influencer Joe Allen in an interview with The Press on his
Many have decried the “woke mob” to be the cause of constant cancellations. Last semester at
Stony Brook University, “comedian” Chris Johnson opened for the comedy group the Impractical Jokers. He joked about pronouns, how you can’t make any jokes anymore — despite making the jokes to a crowd of students and opening for a comedy group going on tour across the country
— and how he was going to get canceled. We could not confirm nor deny his prediction due to the fact that his name would not appear when searched on Google. We were unsure if there was an existing comedy career to cancel. But Doogon has dispelled the
“woke mob” claims. “These are just bad people,” he said in an interview. “Imagine the worst person you know from high school. They would say the most homophobic and racist things for attention from people. It’s likely they were popular too. That’s all these influencers are. It’s Hallow-
een with how many skeletons are in the closet. But it’s Christmas for me — I have so much material to work with.” It may soon be the case that your favorite content creator is canceled for doing something seemingly inexcusable. But, if these
planned cancellations are true, there should not be much to worry about. After an apology tour and a long break, you’ll forget it even happened. g
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no stranger to the music scene. Despite this, Freak Accident marks a departure from Menne’s past projects — all of the songs credit him as the sole writer.
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ead over to the border of Bushwick, Brooklyn, and Ridgewood, Queens, and you’ll find a small building standing alone, bordering a cemetery. That’s Purgatory — a woman- and queer-owned bar with a name that pokes fun at a possible afterlife. When you enter, the stairs are worn in, reminiscent of an older home, and the hallway is bare. Going upstairs and opening the creaky door at the top unveils a secret universe — a room with a small, intimate stage illuminated by purple, blue and red lights and a mesmerizing disco ball. The night of Friday, Oct. 6, 2023 was a special one at Purgatory. After opening sets by musicians Grumpy and Jodi, the
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crowd turned quiet and attentive when singer-songwriter Al Menne got on stage and took a seat. These days it’s become the norm for fans to sing louder than the artist at concerts, but this felt strikingly different. The crowd stared devotedly at Menne when he closed his eyes to sing songs accompanied mainly by his guitar, and the crowd hung onto every word, taking in each detailed story Menne told through song. The concert at Purgatory served as an album release celebration for Menne. His debut album Freak Accident was released on Sept. 22, 2023. Although this album was his solo debut, Menne has been the lead singer of indie rock band Great Grandpa for years, so he’s
“The band and a lot of my other musical experiences have been more of a collaboration on writing, or what I’m bringing to the table is the artistic delivery,” Menne said. “I’ll be singing somebody else’s song that they wrote or writing a couple of lyrics in a chorus, but the rest of the song somebody else has written.” Through a mixture of autobiography and creative writing, Menne paints pictures of various moments in his life across the album. Confessional tracks like “What U Want” feel like reading someone’s diary, exposing the secrets they promised never to speak of — “You were wasted, confessing over/How you cheated with a past love/Crossed my heart I’d never tell anyone.” Menne’s songwriting process involves a lot of time journaling, but he admits that even what seems to be true might not be completely accurate. “I think that even just the way that people remember their own memories is kind of an embellishment in a way,” he said. “When you look back on a memory from childhood, you’re not
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quite sure if it’s something you’re remembering verbatim, or you’re remembering it through a story you were told. So it’s sort of a game of telephone that seeps into your brain.” Even if you experienced something firsthand, it is very likely that another person involved has a completely different perspective. That doesn’t make one person right and the other wrong — it is just a fact of life that we all have unique perceptions of each experience. “The human memory is very fallible, and everybody has their own little experience of what is happening around
art form,” he said. “It’s still like this vulnerable thing that I wrote and made, but I’m not the only one who had their hands on it.” “Freak Accident,” the title track and fourth single, has an accompanying black-and-white music video that features Menne playing a runner named Freak racing against a man known as Dogman who wears the head of a dog mascot. Dogman catches up to Menne and grabs him by the foot, causing him to fall down onto the track. Finally, 37
them, which is kind of fun,” he added. The opening line from the album’s lead single, “Kill Me” — “Take it from me, I’m no mystery” — feels very indicative of Menne’s approach to vulnerability in music. As a songwriter, or any kind of creative, drawing inspiration directly from your life and feelings leaves you exposed to an audience wider than close friends and loved ones.
need to lessen some of what he said, but he would reach out to a friend to get a second opinion before doing so. “Everybody that I asked was like, ‘Dude, go for it, whatever, it’s art, it’s fine.”
“There were definitely multiple moments where I was like, ‘Oh, no, I think I’ve said too much,” Menne said.
Menne explained that, when it comes to creating music, he enjoys the collaborative manner in which a song can take shape and transform into something outside of himself. This can be heard through the team of musicians who contributed to the album, including Christian Lee Hutson, Jay Som, Hand Habits, Jodi and more.
He even had times where he felt the
“I feel like then it becomes a different
Menne is able to get up and run away from Dogman. At the end, Menne is surrounded by triumphant fans, motioning for him to get up and join them in celebration. This is the happiest part of the music video, and it comes when the song’s outro is repeating what is, on the surface, a sad sentiment — “I’m a freak accident/Head-on collision, just waiting to happen.”
in an internal way, taking back the feeling of, ‘Fuck, I don’t feel like I belong in a lot of different pockets of my life,’ or ‘I just don’t feel normal,’” he said with a laugh. “And sort of being like ‘Well, let me lean into it a little bit and just own it.’”
But maybe being a freak isn’t such a sad sentiment to Menne. “My personal identification with being a freak is just,
He also noted the feeling of otherness that comes along with identifying within the spectrum of queerness and said that being in a community that might feel the same way is comforting. MUSIC
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“I feel like the more you talk about those feelings, and the more open you are about anything in general, the more you’ll be magnetized towards people who feel a similar way,” he added. Menne acknowledged that, at its root, “freak” is sort of a funny word, and that he can’t help but sprinkle some humor into his stories. That’s the human experience — even the saddest moment could have a grain of humor in it. “So I feel like calling yourself a freak is a silly way of saying, ‘Alright, who’s with me?” Menne said. Menne also said that “Freak Accident” was one of the songs he was most looking forward to playing at Purgatory. Something magical happened when he did. The crowd was illuminated by the refractions of blue and purple light off of the room’s central disco ball, and they were now even more attentive than before, quietly singing along through-
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out the song. Once Menne — joined by Jodi — got to the outro, the audience’s voices grew a little bit louder. After singing the lines himself for a couple of bars, Menne motioned to the crowd, encouraging them to sing louder. The small room swelled as everyone chanted, “I’m a freak accident/Head-on collision just waiting to happen.” It was a cathartic release of energy and feeling. Those who might have felt how Menne describes in the song were screaming it, joined by a group of others doing the same. It was a beautiful display of how sometimes we might feel isolated in our feelings, but, in reality, there’s a huge group of people screaming along with us. It was an unforgettable moment.
on working with Great Grandpa around December and January.
In the future, Menne hopes to release more solo music. “I am planning on working on another album, this coming year, maybe even this winter. I’m starting to get some of the songs together now, which is fun,” he said. He plans
“I hope that it’s a helpful message to other people,” he added. “Just like, ‘It’s all good, dude. Just chill out.’” g
As for his current favorite song off his debut album, it’s the “little guy” — “Feeling/Meaning.” The track clocks in at a quick one minute and three seconds. Though short, its theme is powerful. “I wrote it as a way of self-soothing a little bit, and I think it still holds true,” Menne said. You don’t have to give it meaning Just lay into the feeling Someday it’s all gonna be Water under something That you just can’t see
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M
y discovery of ASMR, which stands for autonomous sensory meridian response, changed my everyday life. I’m unsure what exactly I was doing when I watched my first ASMR video or when I began incorporating them into my daily routine, but how or when I discovered ASMR is not relevant to this article. What’s more intriguing is why ASMR’s characteristic whispers, gentle tapping and brushing sounds have the power to soothe me and many others to sleep when the phenomenon bothers others. This question piqued my curiosity to learn more about the scientific determinants behind these starkly contrasting reactions. So I decided to reach out to some of the ASMR-tists I watch regularly to see if they could answer some of my questions. Caroline Collins, known to her subscribers as QuantumASMR, also does not know exactly when she discovered ASMR. However, the creator says that her inspiration for content stemmed from the math and science courses she took in college. “I used to experience the feeling as
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a kid whenever my mom read to me, a teacher had a particularly soothing voice or when I got my eyebrows done,” Collins said. “It really calmed me down, and I was right in the middle of some pretty stressful classes and studying. I started using it to calm myself down, and it helped me so much that I wanted to give back in some way. I have always been told I have a very soothing voice, so I figured why not start my own channel?” The sensation commonly referred to as ASMR is defined as “the ‘tingly feeling’ that travels from the head downward that some experience in response to certain sounds, feelings or descriptions.” This static or tingling sensation is typically felt at the scalp, neck and upper spine in reaction to what the ASMR world calls triggers. These triggers can include gentle hand movements, liquid sounds and even the sound of chewing. It is worth noting that what works for one person may not work for another. For those who do not experience ASMR tingles, this sensation, to me, can best be described as the chills one can get when listening
to their favorite song or while watching a dramatic movie scene. It may sound crazy to those who do not feel its effects, but ASMR does have benefits. Personally, these tingly feelings generated by soft whispers and gentle tapping have gotten me through some quite stressful and sleepless nights. Maria Viktrovnova has been making ASMR videos for 13 years and has an impressive 2.29 million YouTube subscribers on her channel GentleWhisperingASMR. She has cited her inspiration for content as often coming from “random sound or objects” that catch her attention or simply by incorporating elements she feels will work for others. “There are endless benefits to ASMR in my opinion,” Viktrovnova said. “I personally enjoy the peace of mind and relaxation I feel when I watch an ASMR video. Some viewers use it for sleeplessness and others to help with their anxiety. I’m hopeful [that], with a growing community, there will be more medical research towards how it affects us and so we can better utilize it for those benefits.”
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With research, I did get some clarity in terms of who ASMR triggers affect and why. Whether ASMR has a positive or negative effect on someone is dependent on three primary determinants. The first, and most complicated, is a person’s level of connectedness to the default mode network (DMN) areas in the brain. To simplify this, think of it as the “default” state your mind goes into when not thinking, concentrating or interacting with your environment and those in it. It’s the part of your brain that helps you daydream, self-reflect, process memories and understand other people’s thoughts and feelings. The DMN encompasses various areas of the brain, including the frontal lobes, which are responsible for cognitive functions like decision-making, problem-solving and expressing one’s unique personality traits. According to a study published in the scientific journal PLoS One, those who experience ASMR tingles show fewer functional connections between
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the frontal lobes of their brains and its sensory or attentional areas than those who do not experience the sensation. Interestingly enough, when shown trigger videos, ASMR experiencers activated brain areas related not only to sensation and emotion, but also to motor skills and attention, which helps with decision-making. The second determinant is the type of trigger and the individual’s surroundings. This makes sense to me. It’s about preference: I’ve found ASMR triggers are most effective in quiet environments with dim lighting. While that type of environment, coupled with whispering and tapping sounds, is typically the most calming for me, this may not be the case for someone else. The last factor is an individual’s specific personality traits or “The Big Five,” which are openness to experience, neuroticism, conscientiousness, extraversion and agreeableness. A study published in Frontiers in Psychology concluded that those who experience ASMR tingles had higher
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scores on scales of openness to experience, or willingness to engage in diverse or unconventional ideas or encounters. They also had higher scores of neuroticism, or the tendency to experience anxiety and depression. ASMR experiencers had lower levels of conscientiousness, which is associated with a person’s organizational skills and productivity. They also had lower levels of extraversion, or sociability, and agreeableness, meaning one’s compassion and trust in others. The studies also found that those who do not experience ASMR can find these triggers aversive or annoying. So not only do I have a firmer grasp on why I feel calmer when watching Jocie B brush my TV screen while she acts out doing my makeup or skincare, but I also know why my sister thinks it’s cringey. If you’re curious to try ASMR or see if it affects you, TheFrenchWhisperer suggests that “a good starting point is to ask yourself in which situation you experienced ASMR, and what triggered it.” The creator, who has been making ASMR content for the last decade, decided to take a cultural and educational angle to his content, treating each video as a bite-sized “lecture about a scientific or historical topic.” “Another approach, given the sheer quantity and variety of ASMR videos available, is just to start from one of your hobbies or topics of interest,” he said. “There will be something about it, and, from there, one can start exploring.”
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An interesting common thread in all of my interviews was that, when asked if they wanted to clarify any common misconceptions about ASMR, all the creators I spoke to demystified the idea that ASMR content is explicit. Viktrovnova puts it best — the videos are often “personal and intimate,” so “people can confuse it with sexuality.” All of the creators stressed that, while there may seem like a fine line between ASMR and sexual content, most people who watch and experience ASMR can testify that the feelings that watching ASMR spark take one to a place that has nothing to do with sex. If you haven’t already attempted to dive into this immersive world of tapping, scratching and whispering — the next time you are stressed while studying or find yourself having trouble shutting your brain down, you might give it a try. It’s uncertain if the practice of watching ASMR videos will become mainstream. What is more certain is the positive benefits these triggers will continue to have on those who experience the sensation. “I’m hopeful that ASMR will continue to help others while scientists continue to research the effects it has on us,” Collins said. “I see it being a normal part of our daily relaxation routine, alongside yoga or sound baths. There are many benefits to ASMR, and I think we’re just beginning to understand its full reach.” g
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Photos by Sophia Trifoli
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N
estled into the eastern corner of Stony Brook University is the Staller Center for the Arts. Inside this building is an even smaller nook of the STEM-heavy college’s campus — the Paul W. Zuccaire Gallery, a dynamic gallery space, which features contemporary, professional and student art. The visual narratives being told in this space are the result of a deep, calculated production, planned years b e fo r e being exhibited.
This summer, Karen Levitov, the curator and director of the Zuccaire Gallery, gave me the opportunity to intern there, helping install the latest exhibition — “Shimon Attie: The View from Below.” I documented the elusive experience of installing an art exhibition, and here’s what I learned.
“Shimon Attie: The View from Below” is a solo art exhibition featuring the work of world-renowned visual artist Shimon Attie. Attie’s work, consisting mostly of video and photo installation pieces, has been exhibited in galleries and museums all over the world, including the National Gallery of Art, the Museum of Modern Art and the Centre Georges Pompidou. In 2020, Attie was invited to teach at Stony Brook University as a visiting art professor. Levitov explained to me that his connection to the school and the professors working in the art department ultimately kindled the curation of his solo exhibition in the Zuccaire Gallery. On his website, Attie describes his work as “a kind of peeling back of the wallpaper of today to reveal the histories buried underneath.” The relationships between themes of memory, identity and location are all explored in Attie’s site-specific installations. Attie himself is of Syrian and Israeli descent and a member of the LGBTQ+ community. I found myself thinking about two questions: How do I define the word home? What histories of my community are being overlooked? Not only does the show highlight the stories of migrants who fled their countries for a better life, but it also provokes meaningful
questions about the viewer’s own relationship with their communities. One of the first things that catches the eye in the presentation is the gallery space’s dramatically low lighting. In this video-dense project, the low lighting adds clarity to the videos that are directly projected onto the walls, setting the tone for the viewer’s walk through the gallery. Simply turning the gallery’s lights off was not going to create the effect of darkness that Attie was hoping for. In order to make the space as dark as possible, retractable curtains were attached to each window to block light coming into the room and to enhance the projected videos. To further the allure, the wall facing the gallery’s entrance depicts the exhibition’s title. During the installation process, this wall became an unexpectedly important aspect of the show, as it blocked excess light from coming through the gallery entrance and mystified the content. Dramatically low lighting was also used to complement the theme of waterways and their symbolism in Attie’s work. Water as a medium can represent movement and is one of the most used
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forms of transportation by asylum seekers across the world. Attie also closely explores waterways and their significance as a historical form of migration specifically for immigrants entering the United States. These steps taken to enhance the darkness, coupled with lights concentrated on the hung photographs, created the serene and calming atmosphere that the exhibit strives for. Next time you find yourself in an art exhibition, take a moment to think about these often overlooked characteristics of a gallery space that subtly influence your experience.
Because the show revolved heavily around video pieces and projects of various forms, figuring out the placement of projectors was the first and one of the most important steps for Attie. The floorplan of this show is minimalistic in design, as most of the show’s central focuses are on the walls. It was important to find ways to seamlessly incorporate the projectors into the show without them taking away from the show’s ambience. The most prominent projector, which posed one of the greatest challenges for the installation crew in terms of its placement, was the one used for the titular piece, “Shimon Attie: The View from Below” — a single channel video that features the water reflections of twelve migrants who had recently been granted asylum in the United States. This video took up the entirety of the gallery’s largest wall and is one of the first pieces that you may see when entering the gallery, so perfecting this projection was extremely important. When this projection was finished, its meaning and specified importance to Attie in the show made so much sense. This video became bold and eye-catching in all of the right ways. From the very beginning of the installation process, this piece distinctly intrigued me. When Attie came to the gallery during its construction, I asked him about the work’s meaning.
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He explained that the content of the video expands past just gambling for life, but is symbolic in its recreation of the adrenaline rush felt during moments of fear and danger. In hindsight, the immersiveness that the cinematic enhancements add to this piece were pivotal in allowing this piece to be presented in its full potential. “The Crossing” is an 8-minute-long film that explores the feeling of exile and flight held by Syrian refugees who fled their country for a better life. Created with Syrian actors who had recently escaped their homeland, the film shows the participants dressed in formal attire, playing a game of roulette as they symbolically gamble for their lives. To allow this video to have the intended effect on its audience, its presentation was of paramount importance. Ultimately, Attie decided to paint the wall with a special projector paint and to add curtains on both ends of the video to highlight it. Accessibility is important in an art exhibition that relies heavily on video pieces. In this installation, there are two informational videos that help the viewer understand Attie’s site-specific works.
These short, documentary-style clips add meaningful and necessary context to the works that were not necessarily created for a gallery setting. Closed captions help the viewer understand the videos and expand accessibility, while labels allow for the pieces to be properly recognized, perceived clearly and credited. One of my tasks for this internship was to create all of the closed captions for the exhibition. It was a laborious process, listening to each video and manually transcribing the words of each subject, very consciously emphasizing their thoughts and feelings with spacing and grammar. However, it allowed me to gain a great appreciation for the incredible stories that migrants told on film.
It was crucial that the gallery staff were extremely careful with the photographs in this exhibit through every step of the process. Not only can a mistake ruin an installation, but it can also be extremely costly, which is why it is important to closely regulate the artwork’s environment and avoid carelessness. One of the key steps taken to protect the artwork is controlling the gallery’s
climate. After receiving pieces of the art, waiting a day to take the art out of its protective packaging, allowing it to acclimate to the gallery’s temperature, humidity level and overall environment is important. The ideal climate to hold artwork in is one that is dry and has limited exposure to sunlight. In the process of hanging up the photographs, there were some important anecdotes that I needed to keep in mind — don’t take it piece by piece, label everything possible, keep the picture level and understand the gallery space you’re working with. I also had to simply stand at times. I had to look around and discuss the exhibition with Levitov, Attie and many other amazing people I got to meet. Before finalizing the placement of the
artwork, Attie and Levitov insisted at points that we all stand and look at the art, making sure it fit the aesthetics of the show. We would all stand in a line facing the walls l i n e d w i t h photographs
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and contemplate the work we were looking at. More than ever, I learned the importance of slowing down. With the intense pace of production, knowing the appropriate times to slow down and reflect on the process proved to be essential. I learned about some of the most important themes of the show during these gentle moments. One of my favorite parts of the installation process was being able to visibly discern the amount of progress made by just roaming around the exhibition — a process that felt constantly rewarding. The exhibition installation process was also extremely fruitful in the way it yielded an environment for collaborating and learning. During this internship, I spent most of my FEATURES
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time talking with the gallery’s art installer and temporary assistant director Sibel Yalin, who taught me what it takes to be an installer for distinguished museums and galleries. I also shared lots of my ambitions and dreams with Levitov, and, by the end, I knew I had gained a meaningful connection. These are only a few of the many people who had immense influence on me in these two short months. As time passed during this experience, some of the answers to the questions I posed earlier — How do I define the word home? What histories of my community are being overlooked? — became easier to answer. I think that home is rather a visceral feeling that the people I hold closest to me bring out. Yes, my family house in Bay Shore, Long Island, is a location that makes me feel at home, but the notion of home is something I am constantly search-
ing for and experiencing in new people and places. I always want to be cognizant of how the term means something different to everyone. The installation process is the product of years of research, curation and preparation. It is a visual byproduct of the labor and time spent by the curator to understand the art and artists you’re working with. The work put in during these steps is what helps the curator bridge the gap between the audience of the exhibition and the art, and helps them to create an exhibition that leaves a long-lasting impression. “Shimon Attie: The View from Below” allows Attie to amplify the voices of those unheard and share the stories of a search for home. g
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Singer-songwriter Faye Webster brings us back into post-breakup despair with her latest single “But Not Kiss.” Released on June 20, the single dives into the feelings surrounding the end of a relationship, and the dance we do with ourselves post-relationship while deciding whether to reach out to a former lover or not. The song bounces back and forth between Webster’s soft voice and a repeating, hard-hitting piano refrain. Webster’s quiet vocals are punctuated with this six-note riff after each verse is sung. The absence and return of the instruments jar listeners, leaving them with no choice but to bob their heads along when the beat drops. Her melancholic and subdued vocals get a chance to shine and so does the track, contrasting the forlorn, disheartened passions with the intense, powerful ones. The lyrics peppered throughout the song capture the contradicting emotions that arise from a breakup, the push and pull, back together and then apart yet again. “I want to see you in my dreams/But then forget.” There is a sense of indecision in the first line of each verse — Webster raises her pitch at the end as if in question. But, once the second line hits, there is no doubt where she truly stands. She knows the only way to move forward is to leave these questions in the past, and quickly slams the accompanying line down to solidify this choice. The conflicting feelings of a painful breakup can lead to some unease and insecurity, and Webster encapsulates this unsettled feeling. She wants her ex-lover close, but can’t bring herself to put her heart out to them: “I hope you’re okay/But I won’t ask.” In this verse, she shows a desire to protect herself and her ex from more heartache. It’s a balancing act between wanting and letting go
that many of us haven’t yet mastered. If you’ve been through a painful breakup, you might be able to resonate with some of the emotions portrayed in this song. I love how simple her lyrics are — they follow a classic train of thought, questioning “do I dare reach out?” while trying to reconcile the actual breakup and pondering the potential regret of contacting this person again. Webster lets us be confused, a little angry and definitely conflicted, all while trying to push past the gloomy cloud lingering over our every move.
It begins with a light, hypnotizing strum of a guitar in threefour time. This summer, Billie Marten’s “God Above” was a song that played in the back of my mind, like an embedded tape stuck on a loop. Sometimes, I would hear it emerge from the background noise and play front and center, especially during moments of quiet and clarity. I would find it as an unexpected accompaniment to my morning meditation, whistling faintly in the leaves of the trees outside my bedroom window or perhaps blending in with the silence around me as I went to bed. It was one of those deep, early summer evenings when I heard her voice for the first time, before the fireflies had come out of the ground and before the crickets had begun their frantic song. In the midst of all this ambience, she describes a meadow: Here as I am like the toes on my feet Always a gamble on who they might meet Fresh are the flowers, and air that is sweet Bringin’ me back to you This acoustic waltz evokes a strong sense of longing for an unperturbed and reflective place, reminiscent of a pastoral painting, or the flower garden from the film Howl’s Moving Castle. What I most enjoyed about this piece was its economy of sound: with just string instruments and a drum set, the song sounds kind of folksy, relaying a very grounded message throughout. There’s a pacifying simplicity to it. After the soundscape of the introduction and a substantial, tension-filled buildup to the chorus, the piece abruptly but naturally shifts to an upbeat, glorious
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tune. Its openness would make me very happy every time I listened to it — I would often find myself smiling afterwards. In an interview, Billie Marten expressed how she had composed this piece, along with her album, Drop Cherries. “In modern music, you can get caught in this chasm of eternal takes and layering,” she said. “Then you have a full song but it’s not necessarily a performance.” In “God Above,” the chorus, in referring to her vision of God — “Her golden hair/And she’s everywhere” — had originally included “but I go nowhere.” She wanted this line to portray her own ability to keep herself grounded. But, in the end, she had decided to cut it in order to suggest a more open-armed connection to the divine. She found answers, like I did this summer, in simplicity. This summer, I had something of a divine intervention. In preparation for my senior year as a creative writing major, I had to develop and refine my own style and voice by the start of the fall semester. Oftentimes, I’d find myself hitting roadblocks — writer’s block, as well. In writing, voice reflects a state of mind. If I was bitter or holding onto something that needed to be expressed, it would inevitably show up in my writing. After reading books, I’d go right to judging my own work, attempting to emulate different writers’ styles while lacking the confidence to improve my own. Often, I questioned my own writing ability. At times, I even questioned my purpose altogether. However, towards the end of the summer, as I began to revise what I’d written so far, I found that I was most comfortable writing short stories if I treated it like writing a journal entry. I had complicated things too much, after all. As the nighttime grass began to fill with ephemeral flashes of light, I took out my journal and began writing. I was right at home; my writing took inspiration from others, yes, but, at its core, it was myself. So I kept on writing, dreaming of colorful pastures, a blue sky and a smile from above. And, when I woke up, I was at peace.
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“Sunshine Baby” was released on the very first day of my summer vacation. When I listened to it for the first time, I knew the song would completely embody my feelings this summer. Even the title makes it sound like the perfect summer song. The Japanese House — whose real name is Amber Bain — has been releasing music since 2015, but I didn’t become a fan until this year. “Sunshine Baby” was released as a single leading up to her sophomore album, In the End It Always Does, which came out in June. There were a lot of songs I loved on the album, but “Sunshine Baby” prevailed as my favorite all summer long. The instrumentals really drive the song forward. There are synths, guitar, violin and saxophone all layered over each other to create a dreamy combination of sounds that you can get lost in. It’s perfect for a sunny drive with the windows down. Bain’s smooth voice pulls you into the song and keeps you there. Her voice, combined with backing vocals by The 1975’s Matty Healy in the second half of the song, captivate the listener as the track builds. Everything sounds perfect together, but what stands out the most to me are the lyrics. They feel so helpless. Bain sings about wanting to feel alright again and missing what she once had. She knows that time is passing, and she doesn’t want it to. “Hold on to this feeling ’cause you won’t feel it for long,” she sings. These days, my whole life seems to revolve around uncertainty. I don’t know what I’m going to do after I graduate in the spring. I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life. I don’t really know what I want at all. All I have is the hope that someone or something is going to make it better someday. Bain puts all of this into words so perfectly in the chorus. I don’t know what’s right anymore I don’t wanna fight anymore Sitting in the back seat, driving with my sunshine baby
I love summer rain. It’s the kind of rain you’re not afraid to get wet in. You don’t get cold because the heat dries the water droplets off your clothes and skin. My mom tells me all the time how much she loves the summer heat. “The kind that seeps into your bones and thaws you from the inside out,” she says. I spent a lot of time with her this summer, interning at the lab where she works. I also spent a lot of time being retrospective, listening to ‘90s rock almost exclusively. It’s like Slowdive knew this when they made their return to music with the release of their single, “kisses.” I would listen to the song for what seemed like hours on end, watching the summer rain pour. Kisses Born desert sun Kisses Born desert sun Kisses Born desert sun I actually thought the chorus was “born dancing slow” before I looked up the lyrics. The misinterpretation was fitting though. At my internship, I primarily worked with tumor samples which were all dated as early as the 2000s. Old memories flooded my mind as soon as I read those dates, intensifying my retrospective summer. My MUSIC
Well, I’ve gone a little crazy Surely someone’s gonna save me now “Sunshine Baby” also contains the album’s titular lyrics: “Putting off the end ‘cause in the end, it always does.” At first, I didn’t know what the “it” Bain was talking about was. But one day it hit me that “it” is the end itself. Everything ends. No matter how hard you try to put off the end of something, it always ends anyway. I think Bain is a genius for how simply she managed to put such a devastating truth. I never wanted this summer to end. I felt like this was my last real summer because once I’m done with college next year, I may not have a summer break again. I did my best to savor every single moment of it because I knew it was destined to end eventually. And it did. But I’m still glad it happened, and I’m happy I had “Sunshine Baby” to keep me company through the entire thing.
old dog, my old house, my old friends — my old life was all I could think about. I try not to dwell on the past, but sometimes it’s difficult not to lose myself in what could have been — yearning for the familiarity of my childhood years. With the song on constant replay in my head, the misheard lyrics grounded me in the present. The rushing of past memories calmed. I slowed down. The melancholic and ethereal sound of “kisses” leaves me nostalgic but also content. What was once regret is now an appreciation for the past welling up inside of me. “Maybe there’s a car there/Driving away from here/Taking all the ghosts, the hurt.” My dad took us hiking one weekend when the sky was a blanket of clouds. It looked like it could open the floodgates at any moment. Despite seeing cars drive the opposite direction on our way to the mountain, we were reluctant to give up on the trip. Ponchos at the ready, we trekked the rocky trail. As the wildflowers and cows greeted us at every corner, I could sense Slowdive’s atmospheric guitar riffs in the brisk, rainy air. My mom spent a great deal of her childhood in the desert climate of El Paso, Texas, so rain typically isn’t her favorite weather. To my dad’s surprise, my mom couldn’t stop expressing how much she enjoyed herself, hiking through the thick rain and impenetrable mist. Steps ahead of our parents, my brother and I tried not to slip on the mossy rocks on our way down. The slightly raspy, steady voice of Neil Halstead, one of Slowdive’s vocalists, echoed with every careful step. The time I spent with my family this summer is something I’ll always cherish. The memories that pulled me under the water desiccate when I’m with them — as if I’m standing under a desert sun. I’ve never been able to tolerate the heat like my mom. One day, I hope I can. Until then, I can count on her to towel me dry whenever I fall into the water.
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Betelgeuse, described by NASA as a “blazing red supergiant,” is going to explode. Well, it could have gone supernova already and the light simply hasn’t reached us yet. The idea of light-years fascinates me — the distance light travels between astral bodies is measured in Earth years. All the stars we see in the night sky are projections of light from hundreds or even thousands of years ago. They’ve watched over us. The light from these stars traversed the universe and time itself to dot our night sky. When I first heard Mitski’s “Star,” I felt myself shatter into a million pieces. She always seems to release an album when I need it most, even if it nearly kills me. Her newest record, The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We, embodies love in such a beautiful way — and the track “Star” is a shining testament to it. I have never been in love. For so long, I yearned for that feeling I was expected to have. Love is supposed to feel like salvation. Love is a beautiful thing that I somehow could not grasp. Any residual feelings of love I have are quickly extinguished by the never-ending notion that I am unlovable.
The first time I heard “First Time” by Hozier, I was so captivated by the beautiful string melody that I didn’t pay too much attention to the lyrics, aside from noticing how poetic and complex they were. The instrumental music is smooth and romantic, driven by a powerful bassline, reminiscent of Carole King or Andy Rourke. The song also features a rich orchestral backing band that adds a classical jazz sound to the melody and pays homage to the traditional Irish fiddle music of Hozier’s homeland. I listened to Hozier’s new album, Unreal Unearth, the day it came out, while I was getting ready for and driving to work. By the time I actually arrived at my office job, all I wanted to do was listen to “First Time,” the third track on the album, over and over again. That is exactly what I did all day, until I had the lyrics memorized. The song, right from the first verse, feels like a masterclass in poetry: Remember once I told you ‘bout
Mitski sings, “You know, I’d always been alone/’Til you taught me/To live for somebody.” It is completely naive to relegate love to just the romantic level. Love is ever-present in who we meet and what we do. Yet memories of laughing in the dining hall, spending hours practicing dance routines or watching quail chicks emerging from their shells in my kindergarten incubator express love in its purest form: joy. Living for somebody, living with someone and experiencing life together, is where joy resonates. There are people from my past I have not spoken to in years, but that love remains. Mitski takes us on a cosmic journey of love from start to finish. “That love is like a star/It’s gone, we just see it shinin’/‘Cause it’s traveled very far.” Equating love to a star is a perfect analogy. A star is an everlasting light that not only makes a journey to us, it follows us through life and death. Even if the star no longer exists, its light is still there or, as Mitski says, “I’ll keep a leftover light/Burnin’ so you can keep lookin’ up/Isn’t that worth holdin’ on?” The song almost twinkles with its synths. The gentle instruments and vocals gradually crescendo into this orchestral and masterful triumph of love with the lyric, “I’m yours no matter.” Every time I listen to “Star,” I remember that dark movie theater and the glow of the screen, I remember candles glowing on a birthday cake and I remember shadow puppets on a stormy night. “Star” represents the love of life and that light that belongs to everyone. Even in darkness, when I look up at the sky, stars are there watching over us all.
to describe how a flower lives most of its life underground, until it finally reaches the sunlight, after which it is immediately ripped out of the ground and begins to die. All it can do at that point is try to bloom during the time it still has left. As Hozier sings these beautiful lines of poetry, his voice crescendos as he grows almost frantic, trying to explain what he means, and eventually he just gives up and drops his voice, saying, “but, anyway…” before he launches into his chorus: Bloomin’ forth its every color In the moments it has left To share the space with simple living things
How before I heard it from your mouth
Infinitely suffering, but fighting off like all creation
My name would always hit my ears
The absence of itself, but, anyway…
As such an awful sound
This track, more than any other, really encompasses the way I try to tell people I care about them. Hozier’s desperate attempts to explain his feelings with such complex metaphors and long phrases reminds me a lot of myself. I love language, and I tend to put my feelings into as many words as possible so people can actually understand them. The way Hozier invokes classic literature and nature to embody abstract feelings of love is something I can relate to, and the song feels very personal because I understand it so well. I never get tired of listening to this song because there’s so much meaning in the lyrics to decode, and the melody is just so layered and lovely. But, anyway…
And the soul, if that’s what you’d call it Uneasy ally of the body It felt nameless as a river undiscovered underground As a lover of literature, I was — and still am — absolutely floored by this opening verse. Hozier’s description of falling in love as being so transformative that for the first time in his life he liked the sound of his own name, and that the sound of his lover saying it awoke his soul, is incredible. My favorite parts of the song by far are the second verse and subsequent pre-chorus, during which Hozier crafts a complex metaphor comparing life and love to the fleeting lifespan of a flower. He begins, “These days I think I owe my life/To flowers that were left here by my mother/ Ain’t that like them? Gifting life to you again,” and continues in the verse
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Sometimes I cringe when I listen to songs about love — maybe it’s because I can’t relate to them or I don’t believe I am even deserving of it. However, as chills enveloped my body right from the first note of “Star,” the only thing I pictured was every single person I ever met and the love I have for them.
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What does heartache sound like? Blocked chords on guitar, or maybe the brief quiet just after them. So begins “From the Start” by Icelandic-Chinese singer-songwriter Laufey — pronounced “LAYvay.” The lyrics speak to her obsession with longing, an obsession that — and maybe you’ve felt this, too — can leave you devastated, lying motionless on the floor of your bedroom as you wait for a boy to text you back. “Don’t you notice how/I get quiet when there’s no one else around?/Me and you and awkward silence.” The opening pulls you in. You’ve been here before — under the tender and inscrutable burden of a crush. “Don’t you dare look at me that way/I don’t need reminders of how you don’t feel the same.” And then it hits you. The reality that your crush doesn’t like you back can send you screaming into pillows and cropping out pictures in a heartbeat. In an interview with Genius, Laufey articulated how she is interested in a particularly painful kind of heartache. It’s that feeling when you’re talking to the person you’re falling in love with, and they tell you about the person they like. That pit in your core, that sinking in your stomach — that’s what lives in this song. But blast the track in your bedroom because — and level with me here — the boy you’re obsessed with won’t text you back, and you’ll find yourself dancing circles like no one’s watching. There’s a groove to the piece, inspired by jazz and bossa nova, which Laufey sings
I spent a lot of my summer sitting in the blue and turquoise seats of the LIRR trains from Ronkonkoma to Atlantic Terminal to visit my friends in Brooklyn. I found myself really getting into podcasts on these long train rides. Las Culturistas — a pop culture podcast hosted by comedians Matt Rogers and Bowen Yang — quickly became my favorite. I was obsessed. The two comedians figured out how to keep things fresh every episode. It was often so funny that I had to hold back my laughter when I was in public. I worked through their older episodes, listening to as much as I possibly could. In one specific episode titled “Sunday Morning Talk,” the duo raved about up-and-coming pop singer Chappell Roan. I had heard of Chappell Roan before when her song “Pink Pony Club” went viral on TikTok, but I had never really listened to the rest of her discography. I took the Las Culturistas shoutout as my sign to give her another listen. I was instantly hooked. As an openly queer artist, Roan’s infectious pop songs embody queer joy. Her music became the soundtrack of my summer days when I hopped off the train and waited for my transfer at the Jamaica station. Her August single “HOT TO GO!” was on constant repeat in my head. Roan described her motive behind the song as a means of living out her “cheerleader fantasy.” The track has a unique quality that made me obsessed with songs like “Cha-Cha Slide” that would play at school dances and childhood birthday parties — they all have built-in dance instructions. The instructions in “HOT TO GO!” are: “Snap and clap and touch your toes/Raise your hands, now body roll/Dance
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through. Her voice, full and lustrous, is grand enough to sit inside. Inspired by Ella Fitzgerald, she bursts into scat after the first chorus, her voice becoming horn-like and playful. Since when did heartache sound this good? “I was always very sheltered,” Laufey admitted to Genius. “I never really dared to really express exactly how I felt about someone, so for this I just wrote it, kind of this confession, into a song.” So this groove? It’s bravado! It’s a fanfare of ambivalence. The next time your crush is standing in front of you, and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to say exactly how you feel — just tell him. And don’t just tell him, tell him with confidence. Like it barely even matters, like it can wait for the next verse. Sing it, really sing it, make up the words, and dance — dance like somebody’s watching.
it out, you’re hot to go.” In addition to those instructions, the post-chorus chants “H-O-T-T-O-G-O.” In both the music video and her onstage performances, Roan spells out the letters using her arms, reminiscent of the accompanying dance to “YMCA.” Too often, it feels common for queer media to be paired with yearning and melancholy — think songs like “Moon Song” by Phoebe Bridgers and movies like Portrait of a Lady on Fire. While I am no stranger to enjoying those things, it is refreshing when artists embrace the joy of being queer. Like Roan said, the intention of the song was to be “simple and silly,” and I agree that it is important to not take things so seriously and dance it out to “a song about being hot.” “HOT TO GO!” is an absolute blast — I can’t help but want to get up and boogie whenever I hear it. I am in no way a professional dancer, but I couldn’t wait to dance my little gay heart out to “HOT TO GO!” when I finally saw Chappell Roan in concert this fall.
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MUNA had a busy summer touring with Taylor Swift — but they still had time to drop their first single following the release of their self-titled album last June. “One That Got Away” is a synth-pop anthem that brought me into the summer feeling intoxicated by its production, lyricism and instrumentation. The lyrics are scathing, confrontational and empowering, and the song feels like a punch to the gut. Lead vocalist Katie Gavin translates the heated feeling of being ready to commit to a relationship with someone — only to realize that they’re “only messing around.” The one that got away The kiss you never tasted Now I’m the one that got away Tell me that you hate it Backed by Naomi McPherson’s harmony and Josette Maskin’s syncopated guitar, Gavin addresses the flirtation with pity, but she doesn’t pull any punches. It’s bitter and
Doja Cat’s opening lines in her remix of SZA’s “Kill Bill” didn’t immediately speak to me. I’m in a funk, so I bought a bouquet of roses And cut ’em up at your doorstep, your new neighborhood is gorgeous I paid a lot of money for the fragrances you wore when we were datin’ And I sold some lemonade just to afford them My friend and I discussed on FaceTime how her verse felt slow and out of pace with SZA’s parts — as if we had any qualifications to do so. But much like how Doja Cat snuck up on her ex in the lyrics, this song, and my summer, snuck up on me. My summer was not like any other. I traded home for Stony Brook’s West Apartments, the Jersey Shore for the Port Jefferson beach and 1 a.m. hangouts for 9 a.m. organic chemistry lectures. I stayed on campus for the summer and the “Kill Bill” remix stayed on constant repeat. Much like SZA, I thought, “How did I get here?” The answer lay in my previous fall semester — when focusing on my work was not easy and I felt too embarrassed to ask questions. The same way that Doja Cat and SZA call out the insanity of their choices, I called out the insanity of mine. I asked myself, “Should I be here? Should I have just taken this course at home?” I faced a class that had seen me at my worst, but now with half of the time. Yet I walked out of that first lecture with the decision to not just pass the class, but to absolutely kill it. The weeks passed and, like SZA’s, my plan to kill became a confession every time those exam scores came back. My friends and I lived in the library and spent our days throwing our brains at whiteboards and practice exams. We understood those lyrics more than ever. The obsession, the desire
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cocky, delivering a very satisfying “fuck you” to the ex you might be winning imaginary arguments with. The music video is just as fun and even vengeful — MUNA is wrapped up in some criminal activity during a game of poker. The trio murder some mafia guys, eat pasta and look hot, all thanks to directors Ally Pankiw and Taylor James. Gavin said in an interview that they thought Pankiw’s idea of a criminal underworld “fit perfectly” and that they wanted “an excuse to dress Jo up like The Bear.” The heat of “One That Got Away” is perfect for the summer. In June, I had similarly ended things with someone, and this song resonated with my feelings of confusion and being used. I couldn’t feel sorry for myself while listening to it, though. The first time I saw MUNA in concert, there was nothing but queer joy in the venue. The energy of their music is electrifying, even when the lyrics are more somber. This single was especially refreshing for a power-strut through Manhattan, hoarsely giggling after singing and dancing with your friends all night long. In August, I got my driver’s license. When I was finally able to drive by myself, cultivating the perfect driving playlist was a task I took very seriously. I’ve always been extremely anxious behind the wheel and wanted to embrace the confidence I felt when I passed the test, so “One That Got Away” played while I drove to school alone for the first time. With the windows down, my favorite sunglasses on and no traffic on the road, I drove smoothly, thrilled to be independent and sure of myself.
and the willingness to cross all sensible boundaries — even if it meant studying until 3 a.m. — to get what we wanted. The first grade — the first kill — came back, and it was not bad, as in, “Oh my god, what if I can actually do this?” The kill streak started, and then I had no choice but to keep going, to work harder and to blast my new favorite song even louder. Doja Cat’s slow, unsteady trudge to her ex’s house was also mine to Frey Hall every day at 9 a.m. SZA’s wild rationalizations were echoed in mine: “It’s totally fine to stay up until 6 a.m. studying.” Doja’s kitchen knife became my pencil and SZA’s ex my ex(ams). Every walk to class, to exams and to the library had the soundtrack of my absolute favorites and a gentle, slightly delusional reminder to keep on killing. SZA dominates all of my playlists and the “Kill Bill” remix was a daily part of my summer. It’s sweet, calming, catchy and really just fun. It’s a reminder of a summer that ended up being way better than I expected and of a class I grew to love. Now, I’m just trying to keep that energy going for physics this semester.
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You know that feeling when those first few weeks of college air hit you, as happens every year, when all of a sudden, you’ve got a crush? It’s a rite of passage, isn’t it? You go on and on to your friends about that special someone, and you just can’t seem to shut the hell up. That’s what Tyla’s song “Water” feels like. You’ve got the track on repeat, its sensual beats and lyrics a soundtrack to your budding emotions. You find yourself in your room every other night with your friend, attempting to decipher the secret behind Tyla’s iconic “Water” dance as she repeats: Make me sweat Make me hotter Make me lose my breath Make me water Tyla seems to perfectly isolate her hips for the iconic Bacardi dance she does along to the song’s amapiano beat. Bacardi, which originated in South Africa, is a dance that incorporates intricate but almost invisible leg work, slightly moving the backside enough to create what looks like twerking, but in a much quicker, calculated and elevated fashion. The dance seems impossible to do, and you blame it on not having the proper equipment to begin with — a plumper backside. But then your friend points out that Tyla barely has the equipment herself, yet still executes it flawlessly. You crawl into bed and sob, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. But you know you’re not alone in this struggle. You open TikTok, the addictive amapiano beat trickles out of
It’s Reneé Rapp’s world, and we’re just living in it. You might know her from her character Leighton on HBO’s The Sex Lives of College Girls or from her portrayal of Regina George in the musical adaptation of Mean Girls in 2019. Rapp’s Broadway debut was a result of her winning the 2018 Jimmy Awards, a nationwide high school theater competition. Trust that I will be the first person at the movie theater when Rapp reprises her role as Regina George in the movie remake of the Mean Girls musical this January. At 23, Rapp has checked boxes that others take decades to achieve. A Broadway debut, a television acting debut, her own radio show on Apple Music and, this past August, the release of her debut album. Snow Angel debuted at number 44 on the Billboard 200 chart, making it the most successful first week for a debut album by a female artist in 2023. It didn’t take me long to fall in love with this project and memorize all of her lyrics. However, I think the song “Pretty Girls” in particular will likely be one of my most streamed of the year. While much of her social media content is smeared with sarcasm, Rapp remains passionately transparent when speaking on issues that she cares about. These topics include body positivity, mental health and LGBTQ+ issues. In various interviews, Rapp revealed having insecurities surrounding her own bisexuality. She has been in heteronormative relationships and has shared her fears of not fitting in with the queer community. Lyrics laced throughout her album allude to her love of men and women alike. In “Pretty Girls,” Rapp sings about the sexual tension between two women during a night out. Despite one having a boyfriend, they engage in a whirlwind of flirtation while under the influence of alcohol. In the p.m., all the pretty girls They have a couple drinks, all the pretty girls
your phone and you watch countless others trying to recreate the moves. Some nail it, making you feel like you’re light-years away from mastering it. But there are those whose attempts are comically endearing, and their videos remind you that it’s not about perfection — it’s about the joy of dancing, the thrill of letting loose and the shared experience of being caught in the throes of desire. “Water” is the ultimate anthem for these moments. It’s all about that steamy tension between desire and restraint, a tension that mirrors the emotional rollercoaster of a college crush. Sometimes, restraint is nowhere to be found, and you find yourself consumed by the flames of attraction. Other times, it’s all about holding back, the anticipation driving you wild. However, in this song, she throws caution to the wind, inviting listeners to revel in the raw, unbridled passion of the moment. Can you blow my mind? Set off my whole body If I give you my time Can you snatch my soul from me? I don’t wanna wait, come take it Take me where I ain’t been before Can you blow my mind? Set off my whole body Whole body Her lyrics encapsulate the essence of infatuation. They speak of the desire to be consumed by passion, to let go of inhibitions and to dive headfirst into the intoxicating waters of lust. Tyla’s sultry vocals and the song’s irresistible amapiano beat are a reminder that sometimes it’s okay to surrender to the overwhelming rush of emotions, embrace the heat of the moment and let desire flow like water.
They got to have a taste of a pretty girl However, by morning, they are left denying the spark and feeling ashamed. In the a.m., all the pretty girls Act like it never happened in another world Yeah, it’s a blessing and it’s a curse So keep on pretending, pretty girl Although the song is emotionally deep, the bumping bassline establishes the track as a going-out anthem and gives it a celebratory vibe. It conveys the power and joy in carefree attraction — before the sun comes up and the insecurities creep back in. I am currently on my own journey of finding myself, and while reflecting on my college years, I’ve come to appreciate the duality of this song. The best songs are the ones that contain enough depth to bear different meanings. “Pretty Girls” fits just as well on your pregame playlist as it would on your solo driving playlist — if you let it.
So now, they wanna kiss all the pretty girls MUSIC
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I’ve never really considered myself a Swiftie. While I dabbled in a couple of her music videos as a kid, to say she piqued my interest beyond that would be a lie. I don’t say that as some statement about being different — her music has just rarely been on my radar. However, she is partly responsible for arguably one of the most iconic lesbian scenes in TV history — “The Break Up,” from Season 4, Episode 4 of Glee. I had heard the song “Mine” before — I didn’t live under a rock. My mom always had the radio turned on, but a song about Taylor’s potential marriage, divorce and a whole love story about a guy she’s never met didn’t really stick with me until I witnessed this pivotal scene. In this episode of Glee, Santana Lopez moves away for college and decides to break up with her long time girlfriend, Brittany S. Pierce. Santana serenades Brittany with Taylor Swift’s “Mine.” In this tearful ballad, Santana professes her love for the last time so that Brittany can move on. This scene was a shock to Gleeks, including me. Nineyear-old me sat there, sobbing in front of my TV, not real-
My love of K-pop stems from my twin sister. It started when we were both obsessed with BTS in middle school, gushing over the seven members and their amazing choreography and music. We begged our parents to let us go to their concerts and buy their merchandise, but with no income as sixth-graders, it was difficult to convince them. As I grew older, my love for K-pop started to fade, but this summer revived it. My sister and I went to a Tomorrow X Together concert in May, and it was such an exciting performance. The UBS Arena was packed with fans equipped with light sticks as they screamed along to the songs. There was so much energy and love from the crowd that not even spending $10 on hot dogs at the arena could ruin it. After the concert, I spent the next few months rediscovering my favorite groups and uncovering new songs. I had the song “Do not touch” by MiSaMo on repeat the most. The track is fun, upbeat and has empowering lyrics that portray the girl power that a lot of girl groups in K-pop have started to adopt. “Yes, you can watch me/If you love me/But you can’t touch me.” “Do not touch” is super catchy, with satisfying vocals and punchy melodies that encapsulate a perfect summer pop song. The instrumentation is mesmerizing and, from personal experience, it sounds great blasted through car speakers or headphones.
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izing this scene would be etched into the back of my mind for years to come. Brittana, Santana and Brittany’s couple moniker, was the first openly lesbian couple I had seen in popular media. Seeing what I thought would be the last moment of this couple hit me harder than it should have, but those were thoughts I decided to pack up, along with the song, and not touch for years to come. Fast forward almost a decade. I was a sophomore at Stony Brook University, living with new suitemates — some of them avid Swifties. As they began to indoctrinate me, I was reminded of the scene. My sole Taylor Swift song request in the car for the next five months was “Mine,” but now without any guilt. We eagerly awaited for Taylor’s version of the song to drop while still jamming to the original from time to time. Then it happened — July 7, 2023. I was back home, away from my friends for a while now. As I waited to be reunited with them, I turned on “Mine (Taylor’s Version).” While my connection to this song seems silly, it’s how I stayed connected with my friends over the summer. And seeing the song mature along with me and my identity was a very beautiful sentiment. Taylor’s version of this song is truly the epitome of the bittersweetness of nostalgia. Sometimes, I still find myself missing her original starry-eyed version, especially considering she was around my current age when she wrote it, but her new sound, while subtle, has brought a lot of comfort to me over the summer. It truly makes me think that this song, and the memories with it, have been the best things that have ever been mine.
For me, this song represents a summer filled with memories with my sister. We learned K-pop dances in the kitchen, unboxed albums together and sat in her room at midnight, surrounded by posters of her favorite music groups, waiting for new songs to release. Now my walls are decorated with K-pop posters like hers, and we gush over our favorite members like we used to in sixth grade. We took many trips to Target together to buy albums and she keeps all of our photocards safely tucked in a binder. We go to college eight hours apart, and it’s sad not being able to run to her room to show her TikToks or to jump on her bed and talk about anything. But listening to songs like “Do not touch” reminds me of how much I enjoyed getting to spend the summer with her.
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Korean-pop girl group NewJeans is taking the world by storm. The five-member group’s most recent EP, Get Up, features six upbeat tracks. When I first listened to the third track, “ETA,” I just knew it would be my song of the summer.
Sprinkling his gaze everywhere
I spent most of my summer working extremely long shifts at my healthcare job. I felt like I was wasting my days away and stuck listening to the same songs that I had on repeat all year. While looking through social media, a video surfaced on my feed: an Apple ad. In the ad, a man demonstrates how to create high-quality music videos with his iPhone as he films the choreographed dance moves of NewJeans. The music video for “ETA” was shot entirely on an iPhone 14 Pro in partnership with Apple. As I watched the ad, I was mesmerized. The dance moves were eye-catching, and the experimental beat made me nod my head. I immediately wanted to get up and learn the iconic and fast-paced routine that had the girls spinning and jumping around.
I was completely blindsided by this fun dance hit’s dark storyline. The music video showcases the lengths the girls go to protect their friend from having her heart broken. The story starts with the girls walking around a party, FaceTiming Eva about what they are seeing. Eva’s panic and anger combines with the love she feels for her friends, as she pictures them next to her in various scenarios while rushing to the party. In these scenarios, the girls relay what they overheard by singing:
NewJeans offered special album packaging to promote the record — the album is wrapped inside a purse that can be decorated with collectible photos of the band members. I made it a mission to go to different Targets after work to find all the different colors and variations of the album. As I was using my GPS to travel to different stores, these lyrics repeated in my ear, asking the same question that I wanted to know: “(Mmm-hmm) what’s your ETA? What’s your ETA? I’ll be there right now, lose that boy on her arm.” The song is an energetic heartbreak anthem about a group of girls who catch the boyfriend of their friend Eva being unfaithful to her at a party. When they find out he’s been disloyal, they ask their friend what her estimated time of arrival is. Then, they encourage her to break up with her boyfriend, pointing out his misgivings throughout the song: Don’t waste it, your time’s a bank Come on and end it, he’s real bad Don’t indulge him, no, you better trust me Why can’t you see it? I saw it before but when you weren’t there
Attention ARMY: the youngest member of BTS has finally launched his solo career! “Seven” by Jungkook, featuring Latto, brings something new to the table with its R&B touch. Jungkook has been my favorite member of the K-pop band since I watched the “Blood Sweat & Tears” music video in 2016, when I was in seventh grade looking for new music to listen to. Since then, I have been there for every comeback and album drop that BTS has put out. I even had the chance to see them perform live at Citi Field during the Love Yourself World Tour in 2018. Since BTS announced they were going on hiatus last year on June 14, I was eager to see Jungkook shine in his own light. Upon hearing the song for the first time, I was captivated by the chill beat, his talented vocals and the catchy chorus. This summer, I had the single on repeat “seven days a week.” Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday (A week) Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, seven days a week Every hour, every minute, every second You know night after night I’ll be lovin’ you right seven days a week The track features female rapper Latto, which many in ARMY — BTS’s fanbase — were not expecting, but were pleasantly surprised about. Jungkook’s label, Big Hit Music, wasted no time after the announcement and immediately posted promotional photos for the song, reminding fans to save the date for Friday, July 14. I saved the photos straight away to an album on my phone titled “Jeon Jungkook” with a purple heart emoji. The day before the release, I had to work a 12-to-5 shift at my call center job. I remember dreading going in because I had stayed up all night playing Animal Crossing. During my 30-minute break, I ate an apple as I scrolled through Twitter and TikTok to see what ARMY had been saying about the 30-second music video teaser that had dropped, which featured South Korean actress Han Soo-Hee as Jungkook’s love interest.
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So dazzling, honestly between us He’s been totally lying, yeah
Heard him say We can go wherever you like Baby, say the words and I’m down All I need is you on my side We can go whenever you like By the end of the video, the shirt of Eva’s cheating boyfriend is sticking out the back of the trunk as she arrives at a cliff, which hints at what happened to him in the end. It made me feel like I was experiencing this with Eva, and I wondered if I was going to help her bury the body next. NewJeans brings a new style to teenage pop. In my opinion, the group will become the Spice Girls of our generation, far outlasting their immediate success. Now, “ETA” is my go-to song to blast in the car, and while the catchy dance moves make me look foolish, I can’t help how much joy the track brings me. A single EP was able to help me out of my shell and provided me with the excitement of being able to deep-dive into NewJeans, which is why “ETA” is my summer anthem.
I reacted to the music video teaser like many fans did on social media: with enthusiasm. In the teaser, Jungkook and Soo-Hee have a tense conversation in a restaurant that starts to crumble above them. Seeing Jungkook after a long time made my heart skip a beat and reminded me of how much I missed him performing. Finally, Friday rolled around. My alarm went off and I immediately turned on my PlayStation. I got to the search bar on YouTube and inputted “Seven by Jungkook.” The thumbnail of the singer and actress submerged in water greeted me. Instantly, I clicked on the video and did not hesitate to press the “skip ad” button. Throughout the music video, Jungkook tries to win affection from his girlfriend who is avoiding him as much as possible through the course of a week, referencing the chorus of the song. His attempts to win her over are comedic — he goes through various catastrophic events like an explosion in a restaurant, serenading her as a laundromat floods and even faking his own death to get her to notice him. After all of this pandemonium, Latto follows with an incredible verse and cameo. I knew this song was going to be a hit after hearing the first note. With the strumming of a guitar, a catchy melody and Jungkook’s perfect vocals, “Seven” was absolute perfection to launch the former band member’s solo career. There are two versions of the song — one on the romantic side and another with a bit more spice to it. However, please don’t ask which one I listen to the most. For now, all I know is that I cannot wait to see what other projects Jungkook has in store for us.
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Barbie had a great soundtrack that was so memorable and fun to listen to. My favorite song was “I’m Just Ken,” written by Mark Ronson and Andrew Wyatt and performed by actor Ryan Gosling, who plays Ken in the movie. Slash, of Guns N’ Roses fame, plays guitar on the song. I love how the track embodies Ken as a character, taking us along in his journey to find out who he is and what he wants. In the movie, Ken takes over Barbie Land, thinking that Barbie doesn’t care for him. When Barbie and her friends find a way to take back Barbie Land, Ken sings “I’m Just Ken” while going up against Simu Liu’s Ken and other Kens in a beach fight and dance off. Gosling does a great job in the song because he expresses feelings of determination and uncertainty finding his purpose in life, showing his talent as both an actor and a singer. In addition to conveying so much emotion, the song has a fun and energetic feel to it. The lyrics flow into one another, and the song builds to a fast pace that makes you want to dance along to the beat. When I first heard it on YouTube Music, I began jumping and dancing like crazy because of how good it was. When I heard it again in the theater, I was thrilled to see how it fits into the story. It was really cool to see Gosling and Liu playing Kens and showing off to one another with the song playing in the background. I also thought it was hilarious when the lyric “Can you feel the kenergy? Feels so real, my kenergy” plays during the dance sequence because it adds to the comedy of Gosling and Liu dancing off against one another. Ultimately, I love “I’m Just Ken” not only because of how much fun it is, but also because of its message. I think the song’s message of trying to find out who you are in life is really important. After all, this is what life is all about. Everyone wants to find out who they are, and both this song and the movie convey this mes-
sage well. I feel like I connected to the message because I’m in my 20s, still figuring out what I want for myself when I’m older. One lyric in particular made me connect to that message: “And is my moment finally here, or am I dreaming?” Similar to how Ken asks when he is going to have a moment in his life, I also ask myself: when am I going to have a big moment of realization? For my life, I want to be more independent, find my own place to live and get a good job after graduating college. Like Ken, I’m also wondering if my moment will actually happen or not. Gosling makes the song shine with all the talent, dedication and overdramatic flair he puts into it. Overall, “I’m Just Ken” is a song that anyone can enjoy because of its connection with Barbie, strong message, fun vibes and Gosling’s kenergy.
Dua Lipa’s “Dance The Night” from the Barbie soundtrack has been on my Spotify “On Repeat” playlist since its initial debut in May of 2023. This song came out at a time when I really needed it. The spring semester had just ended, summer was beginning and Barbie was set to release in theaters in a couple months, which only added to my excitement.
who is best known for his collaborations with Bruno Mars, Miley Cyrus and Camilla Cabello, the track is a cinematic, uplifting pop song. The lyrics are about having a fun night with friends — essentially encouraging you to throw all your problems and concerns behind you and just dance the night away.
Whether you’re a young girl playing with Barbie dolls or a dad dragged to watch the movie with your kids, “Dance the Night” will make you fall in love with the movie and Dua Lipa — if you haven’t already.
The accompanying music video showed a lot of glitter and glam. With a surprise cameo appearance of Greta Gerwig, the director of Barbie, the video incorporated clips from the movie featuring Margot Robbie, Issa Rae, Emma Mackey and other cast members.
“Dance The Night” is a true testament to Lipa’s ability to create a song that not only makes you want to get up and dance, but also touches your soul. The song’s production is nothing short of breathtaking. Produced by Mark Ronson,
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The disco-esque track seems to reference the style of the pop star’s most recent album, Future Nostalgia. The addition of electronic elements gives the song a modern club vibe.
However, the video wasn’t just made for Barbie, as we see Lipa including symbolic elements and hidden messages. At the end of the video, we see a shattered disco ball, which many say foreshadows the end of her Future Nostalgia era and the beginning of a new one. I don’t think anyone else could have captured the essence of dancing away a carefree night out with friends better than Dua Lipa. Her vocals shine throughout the song and I can’t wait to see where her creativity takes her in the future.
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In “The Summer of Barbie,” as Vogue Magazine called it on the cover of its summer issue, nothing felt more right to me than having a song from Barbie as my song of the summer. Although I did go through the universal experience of getting my Instagram feed flooded with pink as a result of its marketing campaign, I have to admit that the movie itself was only a small part of my summer. I watched it once, in an empty theater on a Monday night. I was with one of my best friends from high school, wearing a Taylor-Swift-themed bubblegum pink shirt that I bought for the Eras Tour. I had fun that night, but the truth is, I wasn’t really happy at the time. I did a lot of things that I hated this summer. First, I had to go back to my home country of Brazil after being rejected from every internship I applied for, which was not in my plans. Once I was home, I had to go back to my driving lessons. Even though I recognize that my driving improved significantly, I still don’t find pleasure in driving and failed the two road tests that I took, making my grand total four failed attempts counting the ones from 2021. Beyond driving lessons, I applied to more internships, which I got rejected from, and recorded videos for my YouTube channel, which I lost after my computer broke. Amid this negativity, I found myself listening to “What Was I Made For?” by Billie Eilish quite often during the chilly nights of the Brazilian winter. In the movie, the song comes in at a moment of internal struggle for Barbie. To me, it was the self-doubt expressed in the lyrics that was relatable because, despite how fabulous things look on the outside, I too was struggling internally. I left the spring semester with good grades, a senior capstone project completed one year early, amazing friendships and a bunch of other reasons to feel proud. Still, I could only feel like my self-confidence had never been lower, and that a happy and successful Rafael was now locked in the past. “I used to float, now I just fall down/I used to know, but I’m not sure now/What I was made for.” These words defined my summer.
Sonically and thematically, “What Was I Made For?” could easily fit onto Happier than Ever, Eilish’s sophomore album, which also dives into internal insecurities. The album had been the last of the artist’s projects I paid close attention to, and, as I listened to her Barbie song, I realized how much I missed her voice. Since her debut, Eilish has been criticized for whispering in her songs. However, in my opinion, Eilish’s whispers only add to her art. They make her singing uniquely relaxing. Her soft voice, combined with smart lyricism, never failed to calm my messy summer mind. “I don’t know how to feel/ But someday, I might.” I had to rely on that — I had to promise myself I would soon know how to feel. The answer to the question comes in the last lines. Think I forgot, How to be happy, Something I’m not, but something I can be Something I wait for Something I’m made for I’m not a doll, but maybe that’s it — I was made to be happy, no matter how unpredictable life is. I wanted a “Dance the Night” summer and got a “What Was I Made For?” one. But I got through it. It’s winter now, and all I can say is I’m in a much better place.
Before the release of both Spider-Verse films, defending Spider-Man movies was like a full-time job for me. I may be the only Amazing Spider-Man 2 defender to exist. My mom has said that, when I was a toddler, I would not be able to eat my food unless Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man 2 was playing. I loved the charm of the character in each movie — Peter Parker’s lighthearted nature stood in stark contrast with the cruel world around him. He was not the dark and brooding Batman, or the perfect adult Superman. He was a kid that could make mistakes. All these themes were exemplified in the critically acclaimed Spider-Verse films. There was no longer an argument over how to best portray the character. The biggest contributor to this was the soundtrack. Daniel Pemberton, who composed for both films, created a soundtrack in the first movie that meshed perfect-
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ly with the licensed music. Yet, in the second movie, the soundtrack takes center stage, as heard on “Across the Spider-Verse (Intro).” This film starts with a black screen and no visuals until the song begins with drums. The drums start slow, and, throughout the song, the character Gwen Stacy narrates events from the previous movie that are being shown on the screen. It then cuts to Gwen playing the drums in sync with the soundtrack. While the narration of the events gets closer to the present, the song builds up with the drums getting faster. She tells the audience that she thought she understood how being Spider-Woman could help save people — that in fact it was her responsibility to do so. Yet she struggles with the fact that she hurts the people closest to her in the process and does not know how to handle balancing both. At the end of the song, the drums lose their form, and she begins to freestyle, showing her frustration. This song, without any words or licensed music to tell the audience how the character feels, shows exactly what it means to be Spider-Man or Spider-Woman. It is the struggle of responsibility, captured powerfully by the weaving of frustrated drums in the back of the song and the crescendoing music of the soundtrack. In its first scene alone, we understand what story the movie is trying to tell. We understand the story of Spider-Man — and Spider-Woman — in the first two minutes. And it’s what makes the movie so good.
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When I was in 10th grade, I had an English teacher who taught me a lot more than Geoffrey Chaucer and F. Scott Fitzgerald ever did. I was that girl who ate lunch in an empty classroom — just Mr. Dunckley and I discussing Tibetan Buddhism, philosophy and astrology. It was a solemn departure when I graduated in 2022, but one thing kept me connected to that empty classroom: his album, Gaslight Alley. In addition to being a high school English teacher, he is the frontman of a rock band named The Foundlings. This year, Mr. Dunckley reached out to me on LinkedIn sometime in August. I’d been living with a host family in Miami for three months, working about 60 hours a week in a newsroom. It was the first time I’d been living on my own, and I felt like a real grown-up. He sent me MP4 files of his unreleased sophomore album to review. With a 12-track whirlwind of Americana, bluegrass and rock, I was brought back to my sophomore year — a turbulent, painful and invaluable experience.
told/The clouds are bleached, the sun is liquid gold.” The percussion ramps up as he sings these lyrics one last time — for just a moment, before the song ends with near silence alongside the closing lines. “The road winds through the glade, where sunbeams narrow and fade/Through a canopy the leaves have made over Taconic shade.”
“Taconic Shade” stood out to me when I first downloaded the files. The song begins with vivid, bright imagery. “Riding shotgun with the ragtop down, the sky is like the bluest eye/Morning air is whipping through my hair, a red-tailed hawk is on the fly.”
The previous choruses are like a transcendental day, soaking in the sunlight and basking in youth. The quiet groundedness of these last two lines, though, are different — more dignified.
The lines describe exactly how the song feels — like spending the last few days of summer driving aimlessly, windows down and radio blasting, which is how I’d been spending my time off. Husky vocals accompany an acoustic guitar, which plays a soft, simple melody, and an invigorating, bellowing electric guitar solo closes out the song. The chords form one last hoorah before you’re brought back down to Earth by the last chorus. “All the simple things in life unfold, the mountains hold mysteries left un-
Essentially, “Taconic Shade” feels like I’m 15 again. Markers of my coming-of-age year — lunches with Mr. Dunckley, driving with newly-licensed 12th graders and sleepovers with my best friend reorienting to include older, wiser topics of discussion like first boyfriends — come to mind. As the song wanes, though, it feels less like the moment and more like the memory. For me, it’s remembering being 15 while living on my own for the first time, 1000 miles away from home.
I make anime edits — well… not anymore, but I used to. In the summer of 2020, locked down in quarantine, a friend of mine taught me how to make edits on my computer. I fell in love with it. Following the same mundane routine for months was getting stale, until I found this new hobby unlike anything I had ever done before. There are three steps to making an anime edit: choosing the clips or scene you want to edit, choosing the song and then actually creating the edit. One of my favorite artists to use for the soundtrack of my edits was a Welsh glitchcore and hyperpop artist on SoundCloud called Kurtains. At the time, he made rambunctious, loud and fast-paced glitchcore songs with booming 808s — an electronic way of adding drums to a song. As silly as some of those songs were, my 16-year-old self found them fun. Three years later, in the shoebox of a break room at my minimum wage job, I received an Apple Music notification: “New Release: Skin - Single by Kurtains.” A name that had almost completely slipped out of my head was now on my screen. I was transported back to all the times I sat in front of my computer, laboring for hours over a 15-second anime edit for my 50 Instagram followers. Insignificant as those may have been, and as little traction I gained for my edits, I’ve always viewed this small period of time in my life as a blaze of creativity and enjoyment like I had never experienced before. I took my headphones out of my backpack and threw them on. I hovered over the play button, bracing myself by
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turning the volume down to near zero in fright of my headphones crumbling to dust the second I heard one of the 808s I was accustomed to from Kurtains. I was greeted with the exact opposite. The mellow tone of his voice accompanied by a faint acoustic guitar was the antithesis of anything I could have ever imagined I would hear after I pressed play. This John Mayer-esque song was flowing through my Sony XM4 headphones as I checked to see if this was the same Kurtains that I was familiar with — and it certainly was. The slow, sappy love song echoes the feeling of someone reading a love letter aloud, which is then transformed by heavy lead and bass guitars that caught me off-guard at first listen. Yet, because it stays at the same tempo as the song’s intro, it fits perfectly. After taking some time to comprehend what I just listened to, I gave it another listen, and I was hooked. After adding it to my playlist, it became a non-skippable song, one that I would always listen to from start to finish whenever it played. The rugged guitar blasted through the speakers of my car as I drove with the windows down, a common scene from this past summer. The euphoric feeling I would get from this song was like no other, and even now I still get it to a certain extent when I hear it. Part of me is still shocked by this 180-degree turn that he’s made with his music, even after listening to “Skin” so many times. As a person, I have changed in a similar way to Kurtains’ music. When I was 16, I was more energized and immature, just like the type of music he was making. Three years later, I am still immature, but I have new interests and hobbies, and I’ve transformed my music taste. “Skin” aligns with what I prefer to listen to now. From then to now, my life is totally different — different people, different schools and a different me. If I try to make an edit now, I can’t do it — I don’t have that same fire in me like I used to and I don’t have the same love and fondness for it as I once had, but I have grown to accept that that is okay.
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Sunami, a beatdown hardcore band hailing from San Jose, California, initially formed as a satirical response to the lack of profundity in a lot of hardcore circles. Though intended as a joke, their debut EP Demonstration and notoriously violent first show turned them into an underground hardcore favorite. Although the band has been around since 2019, I only became aware of them last year, when I saw videos of their mosh pits. Sunami’s long journey, marked by a series of EPs and singles, culminated in the release of their self-titled album in June under hardcore heroes Triple B Records — living up to all the hype. This project contains all of Sunami’s signature elements amplified to the max: caustic lyrics, thunderous drumming and those cathartic, chunky riffs that never fail to get the crowd two-stepping. Clocking in at a succinct 17 minutes and 22 seconds, the album offers a quick and exhilarating fix for fans of beatdown and metallic hardcore — or anyone seeking unapologetically aggressive music. The standout track for both die-hard fans and newcomers, including myself, is “Y.S.A.B.” — “You Such a Bitch.” The song kicks off with an infectious, thrashy riff and relentless double bass drumming, complemented by frontman Josef Alonso’s distinctive screams in the verses. This unique vocal style strikes a balance between raw intensity and authenticity. As the first verse concludes, the song seamlessly transitions into the hook, with the guitar evolving from a thrash-inspired part into a head-nodding, chromatic riff. Guitarist Mike “Durt” Durrett delivers some of his finest work on this track, a testament to his ability to churn out catchy and heavy riffs that’ll always incite violence on the floor. The crushing guitar tone, engineered by longtime collaborator Charles Toshio, adds an extra layer of malevolence to the song. After revisiting the verse, the band slows it down, signaling the impending breakdown. Alonso delivers another one of his memorable callouts, “Front all you want/It don’t mean that you’re shit/You’re a stupid motherfucker,
Over the summer I finally purchased a car to call my own. With this newfound freedom, I did what any insufferable 23-year-old music enthusiast sporting a mid-length haircut would do — I went to familiarize myself with the indie music scene of my nearest metropolitan area. What used to be a once-in-awhile trip became a religious, weekly hour-and-a-half long drive to Brooklyn. From shy singer-songwriters who looked at their microphone more than the audience to experimental noise bands that unknowingly taught me the importance of hearing protection, I was immersed in a diverse range of musical expression. One group that stood out from the rest was the art pop duo Water From Your Eyes. They recently released their third album, Everyone’s Crushed, which I became infatuated with rather quickly — especially the track “14,” which carries a Rorschach-like quality, inviting diverse interpretations from different listeners. The experimental dyad, composed of Nate Amos and Rachel Brown, takes bleak observations of late-stage capitalism and fatalism of the human condition and delivers them through unserious lyrics over looped sound collages and noise pop jingles. There is no better way to describe their album than uncomfortably fun. There’s an intricate range of unease expressed across the LP, from sharp screeches of audio feedback to defeated lyrics. The title track opens with: I’m with everyone I love, and everything hurts I’m in love with everyone, and everything hurts I’m with everyone I hurt, and everything’s love Loving everyone I’m with, and everything hurts Everybody is in love, and every hurt gives Or the corporate jingle of a closer, “Buy My Product,” in which
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and that’s about it!” Drummer Benny Eissmann pounds the snare drum, unleashing chaos in a bone-rattling breakdown, arguably one of their heaviest to date. After two minutes and 26 seconds, the song comes to end, cementing its indelible mark as an exceptional track that sets the tone for the rest of the album. Sunami was never meant to last, especially in a scene like hardcore, where bands can come and go. “Like I said, we didn’t really plan on having this band go the way it’s been going,” Alonso told Kerrang! “So it’s still hard for me to even comprehend how big it is.” While other hardcore bands like Turnstile are getting praised for their fusion with alternative and indie rock elements, which aren’t necessarily bad, Sunami has stayed true to the spirit of hardcore with their cop-hating lyrics, pummeling drums and vicious guitars that have become hardcore favorites. “Y.S.A.B.” and the entire LP are poised to become classics in the scene, undoubtedly securing their place as genre staples for years to come.
Brown says, “There are no happy endings/Only things that happen.” However, these moments of anguish are supplemented by upbeat elements that function as a life preserver for the listener, keeping the fun going. But for the second to last track, “14,” the listener is kicked into the deep end before they even have a chance to fasten the vest, as they are immediately submerged in discomfort. This track, like a stomach knot, leaves little sense of relief, and in moments that it seems like it may come, it dissipates immediately. The looming string arrangement that haunts this track doesn’t provide anything to hold onto either, with one or two notes always in dissonance from the rest. Apart from the sporadic introduction of distorted synths, that’s all the listener has to work with. Only made up of five unique, heavily-repeated lines of lyrics, the self-described “quasi-serial inkblot” gives the listener an immense amount of intimate time to take in each phrase and think about the meaning that can be derived from it. For some of the lines, the listener can easily find ways to project some of their own meaning, like the opening bar of, “When did it start to loop?” or the hook, “I’m ready to throw you up.” But the most intriguing line comes from the bridge, in which Brown sings, “How many is 14?” The song offers no hints and places the onus on the listener to decide what significance these words hold. And that’s precisely what separates “14” from the other tracks on Everyone’s Crushed: the demand for introspection in the face of discomfort.
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VOL. 45, ISSUE 2
THE PRESS
“Baby, baby/There will always be a space for you and me/Right where you left it” And just like that, I’m back in Central Park. I’m back on the blanket on the grass with my sweatshirt covering my face because the sun is too bright. I peek out from under it to see the clouds moving with the wind. Time feels fleeting. And I’ll be here ‘Cause we both know how it goes I don’t want things to change I pray they stay the same, always I let myself melt into the ground. It’s a bittersweet memory. Truthfully, I didn’t know “Always” at the time of the memory I’m reminiscing about, but it’s so easy to let the lyrics take me back to when it was hard to feel like what I was doing was the right thing. Losing someone is never easy, and it’s even harder when you’re the one that had to initiate it. And it’s inexplicably hard when you still love the person. At the beginning of this summer, my partner and I decided to call it quits after three years together. And despite the absolute necessity of the break, I didn’t want things to change — he was my best friend. But we weren’t working, and I had known that for a while. Still very in love with one another, we went our separate ways after one final date in Central Park. I can’t tell if that was the best or the worst decision ever. I left early. I think he hated me for a while after that. Maybe hate is a strong word. I think he resented me for a while after that. To him, I had
abandoned him and our relationship. I couldn’t put into words how hard it was for me — but even if I could, it wouldn’t have made it any easier. Always, can count on it, sure as the stars in the sky Always, you can count on it, sure as the stars in the sky Always, my love for you ain’t goin’ nowhere Always, I will be here I wish I could’ve said those words that day. Maybe if I knew this song then, I could’ve sent it to him so that it could say the words I couldn’t find. I don’t regret the breakup, though. We’re friends again now after a long and isolating summer, and we still have a lot of love for one another. And I don’t think that is something that will change, or could ever change. I’ll always be here. It’s gotten easier, but I feel like I relive the heartbreak a little every time I listen to “Always.” It stings so sweetly, and I can feel tears welling up in my eyes again. Still, I’ll cherish the memory forever.
My dad has a go-to joke for questions that come up at the dinner table: “If only there was a little box that you could type things into… and it would give you answers,” he cracks. Google is great for questions like, “Do you need a law degree to be a paralegal?” Or, “Does your heart lean to the left or right?” But I always find myself wanting to type impossible questions into the search bar. “Is that couple from high school still together?” Or, “How on Earth are you supposed to cope with death if you don’t know if you believe in God?” In the early days of August, Abby Cates released her single, “Rainbowfish.” I have always thought that the Nashville-based songwriter has a voice I would expect of an angel: silky soft and strong. “Rainbowfish” is Cates’ latest dive into what it means to be human and experience every color on the wheel. To me, love is red. Happiness is sky blue. Fear is gray. To Cates, experiencing grief and existential dread without faith in a power above means living with an obscure mish-mash of the whole damn wheel: “If God is a white dude with kind eyes and a man bun/Then I am a hummingbird with gills like a rainbow fish.” I am often overwhelmed by how fast time moves. One minute, I am enjoying a much-needed summer vacation. “Rainbowfish” plays as I write articles for a summer internship with my bed-
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room window open. Cates’ delicate voice floats through my headphones as the song builds in intensity. As the backing guitar, choir and drums build, the song switches quickly from steady and folksy to an emotional ballad about coping with the difficulties of being human. Suddenly, I am stocking the milk fridge at work and the expiration dates read November, and I am heading home to realize that I should really be using LinkedIn more as a college senior. Suddenly, I am saying goodbye to my dog, my most beloved friend. 13 years of having a big, golden nose greet me at the front door came and went. In the weeks before his passing, I struggled to put a finger on why “Rainbowfish” was hitting a nerve with me. If love is a river, we’re all fools with buckets Wading in carefully, avoiding the rapids And being pulled under is a treacherous fate But maybe it’s true to be loved is to be saved Then, a moment of clarity came. The rhythmic plucks of Cates’ acoustic guitar drop out and are replaced by gentle strums as she sings the first chorus: “Been dreaming of ghosts in my sleep/And nothing makes sense anymore to me/Why can we love so deeply only to drown inside of grief?” Cates’ poeticism is beautiful, yet painfully real. We hope that they never reach the end of the line when it comes to the emotion of love. But grief is always a part of the deal. Nevertheless, Cates contends that feeling love and being loved is a gift. The song is a reminder to welcome what comes, including the emotions that are difficult to feel. “Rainbowfish” concludes with a gentle outro. The instruments fade out in a decrescendo after the final chorus, and the listener is left with Cates’ voice and her guitar’s quiet strum. In its final lines, “Rainbowfish” captures feeling miniscule in the face of a tremendously complicated world, but exploring anyway. “If God is an orange tree with hundred-foot roots/Then I am a fly with an eye for her fruit.”
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VOL. 45, ISSUE 2
I’ve never understood self-love. I still don’t fully understand it, but recently I’ve decided to give it a try. Before this summer, I had no desire to pursue the ideal of self-love. I thought it was impossible. I was so used to hating myself that I became comfortable and complacent in my hatred. Loving myself just seemed unbearable, excruciating and unattainable. My hatred consumed me — drowning me in a detrimental wave of self-destruction. I hated the mere idea of self-love. So, I played “Self Love” by Avery Anna on a loop. I first stumbled across this song as a fluke. It popped up as a recommended track after one of my other repeated songs. I saw the title and grimaced thinking that this was going to be the cheesiest song I’ve ever listened to. But something told me to just listen to at least a couple seconds of it as my finger hovered over the skip button. And upon first listen, it reaffirmed everything I had been feeling about self-love, until I stopped looking at it from the surface: Deep down in reality I hate the way “self-love” sounds I hate that I need some right now I hate this dumb self-love song ‘Cause I’m the only one, I don’t let my Self-love The contrast between the bitter lyrics and an upbeat accompaniment conveys the innate nature of self-love that is masked by the resentment we ceaselessly put on ourselves. The rhythm is reminiscent of a heartbeat, which makes me aware of my own heart and its ability to give internally the love I show other people. “Self Love” reminds me that achieving self-love is hard and uncomfortable and extremely painful — but not impossible.
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I stopped choosing paths that would inevitably destroy me: the major I would never love, the job that would eventually break my heart, the rage I never expressed and the continuous cycle of running away from real relationships. In doing these things, I was running away from myself, desperately attempting to ignore the needs my heart was begging for and clinging onto the idea that it was sacrificial to refuse compassion and care. I needed to let go of the version of the world I was weaving. I needed to let go of the perceived limitations I lamented over and the humanity I thought I had long lost. I’m trying to stop loving the idea of me and start loving me — right at this very moment. Not in the future when I land that job, lose 15 pounds or get a partner. Even when it’s painful, I try to love myself because my tears remind me that I am real. Even though this life is ephemeral, I still get to experience what it means to be human. And after all, isn’t being human a worthy enough quality for love?
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